Underground
by Ginny Manders
Summary: A fun night out turns a girl's life upside down when she gets caught up in the underground fight scene. Rescued by the Shield, she enters a world she knows nothing about but can she trust the three men who hold her fate in their hands and will she find love along the way. Dean Ambrose/OC, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Randy Orton (I only own my OC) Warning adult content and language
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, hope you are all OK. This is a new type of story I am trying out so please bear with me! Extreme Rules on Sunday. Come on Dean, get those kendo sticks out!xx**

"Fucking stupid bitch," he snarled as he looked to his left at the unconscious girl across the leather interior of the back seat of the huge black SUV. His glare then returned to his own knuckles which were grazed and bloodied, adrenaline still pumping through his body, every muscle and sinew taut and strained.

"It not her fault bro is it, come on, she didn't ask for this to happen did she?" a voice from the front passenger seat told him.

"Yeah, well why the fuck are we taking her back with us? We should just drop her off at a hospital or something..." he replied.

"You know we can't do that," said the driver, his silvery grey eyes looking directly at him through the rear view mirror.

Signing resignedly and running his hands through his dirty blonde hair he looked out of the window at the Las Vegas city lights rushing past, then back to the girl. There would be hell to pay for what had just happened and just when a deal had been reached too. 'Fucking women, always fucking my life up,' he thought angrily.

"How is she?" the driver asked after ten minutes of silence.

"Dead I hope," said the blonde.

"Seriously!" the driver replied, "take a look at her will you?"

He reluctantly complied taking in the figure curled up in a ball beside him. Her breathing was laboured, bruises already forming on her face, shoulder and legs. Despite his anger towards her, he acknowledged grudgingly that she was a looker. No wonder she was singled out. A deep cut on her arm would need attention and her dress, which clung to her perfect body was ripped and torn.

"She pretty banged up. Her arm needs stitching. Otherwise she looks OK."

"Can you take care of the stitches?" the driver asked.

"Stupid fucking question, of course I can. Stitched myself up hundreds of times and both of you if you remember!" he replied hotly.

"Dean, calm down bro," the guy in the passenger seat told him.

"Yeah, the situation will sort itself out. We will just wait and see what happens," the driver added trying to soothe his pissed companion's mood.

"Roman, you and Seth are too fucking soft. Who gives a fuck what they do with their women. It's their business."

"Oh and are you trying to tell me that you didn't enjoy beating the shit out of them? It only took one punch from me to set you off. You were dying for an excuse to attack. Man I thought you were going to kill all of them!" the driver chuckled.

"How you can laugh at a time like this I don't know," Dean responded. But his mood lightened slightly. Roman was right, he did love it, the fighting, the violence, the power, the aggression, the rewards. It's all he had ever known.

They drove on in silence till they pulled up at electronic gated drive which led to big white villa. Roman stopped the car and they all climbed out.

"Dean, you getting the girl? Seth asked.

"Why me?" Dean answered exasperatedly.

"Cause, you need to fix her up, sort her arm out and stuff," Seth replied.

"Fuck Seth, it's your fault the bitch is here..." he replied.

"I know man, I'm sorry but we can't let her bleed to death, can we?" Seth told him.

Dean, who thought otherwise, glared at his friend and then huffed back to the vehicle, picked the girl up effortlessly and slung her over his shoulder.

"Happy now?" he mocked, stalking past his friend.

He set her down in a bench in one of the immaculate bathrooms which they also used as a treatment room and gathered his medical stuff. The girl was still out for the count so he quickly set to work bathing the cut with antiseptic then stitching her up expertly. In the bright light of the bathroom he surveyed her more closely. He'd say she was about twenty-four or five, long dark hair, extremely beautiful with a body just made to be admired by man but he wished to God that he'd never laid eyes on her or rather that Seth and Roman hadn't laid eyes on her.

One he was satisfied with his handiwork, he carried her into one of the many spare bedrooms in the large luxurious villa, threw back the duvet and dumped her unceremoniously on to the bed. She groaned and opened her eyes and looked at him, muttered something incomprehensible then closed her eyes again. Dean paused, then covered her with the duvet and shut the bedroom door behind him.

"I need a fucking drink," he announced, walking in to the large open plan kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge where Roman and Seth were milling about.

"She OK?" Roman asked.

"She'll live, more's the pity," Dean answered sarkily. "What we going to do with her?" he added.

"If we don't get any comeback we'll just get her better, then let her go home, eh Roman?" Seth said hopefully.

Roman didn't answer.

"You think that, if it gives you comfort," Dean told him while swigging his drink, grabbing another and throwing another to each of his companions. "There is going to be trouble over this, we've worked for this for years and we finally get our shot, then you have two have to go fuck it all up over a girl."


	2. Chapter 2

The sunlight that struck in to the room from a crack in the blinds hurt her eyes. Her head was pounding and it seemed that her whole body ached terribly when she tried to move. The events of the night before were hazy but she knew she was lucky to be alive. She just hoped she wasn't still in the clutches of that man! Gorgeous looking, tanned and built like a tank, the one with skull tattoos up both of his arms, who had charmed her in the club and bought her drinks. Drinks which, come to think of it, did taste a bit funny at the time but her handsome companion was so damn smooth and his eyes so mesmerising that she forgot that she was actually on a hen night with her friends. The next thing she knew, she was in a room at the back of the club and that's where things turned nasty. Shuddering, she told herself not to think about it.

There was a glass of water on the bedside table and she sipped it gratefully, whilst trying to remember more. She spied an en suite bathroom through an adjoining door and as she gingerly tested out her footing and limped in to it she stared in horror at her reflection in a big mirror. God she looked a mess and her arm hurt most of all. Fingering the stitches in wonder and flinching at the pain that caused, it suddenly came to her, he had a knife. She remembered being in pain screaming, then a door opening and some kind of row then all hell breaking loose.

What if he still had her captive? But then why go to the trouble of stitching her up? She hoped she was somewhere else but then would that somewhere else be a better option? There was a fluffy white dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door which she wrapped around herself and decided to take a chance and escape.

The bedroom door was surprisingly unlocked so she tiptoed through it and found herself in a long corridor with a polished marble floor, various doors along it which led to the biggest kitchen she had ever seen. Granite work tops adorned yards of cupboards. A breakfast island arose out of the middle of the room with stools all around it and over to the left was a seating area with leather couches, a huge state of the art flat screen TV and what must be x boxes or play stations connected to it. To the right, floor to ceiling French doors led out to a swimming pool, with day beds, sun loungers and beautiful landscaped gardens. Suddenly startled she spun round when she heard a door from the corridor being opened and soft footsteps making their way towards the kitchen. She stumbled to the French doors and desperately tried to open them, but to her horror they were locked.

"Hey," a voice in gentle greeting said to her. "It's OK, I'm not going to hurt you."

Turning and pressing her back into the door she was relieved to see it wasn't her tormentor from last night but a handsome olive skinned man with half blonde and half black hair, about 6.1 with muscles in all the right places and kind chocolate brown eyes, clad in workout gear.

"You're up early," he stated. "How are you feeling? I was just off for a run before the others get up."

She just stared at him not trusting herself to speak. He moved towards her and she sidled away.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. Come and sit down, you're shaking. Can I get you anything?"

Still she said nothing but did allow him to guide her over to the sofas and collapsed into the soft leather.

"I'd say you need some food, drink and painkillers," Seth smiled down at her. "OK?"

She nodded and allowed herself a small smile.

"Where am I?" she finally asked.

"Your safe, that's all you need to know at the moment. We'll talk when you are feeling better."

"Is...he, that man, is he here?" she said, dreading his answer.

Seth laughed. "Nah, he got taken care of real good. Don't worry about him, don't you remember what happened?"

"Not really," she whispered. "Some of it, it's all a bit fuzzy."

"Don't think too much about it at the minute. I'll get Ambrose to check you out when he gets up. Now let's get you some food."

Feeling reassured and liking the friendly man who was easy on the eye and trying hard to put her at ease, she relaxed a bit and watched him bring her some tea and toast with some painkillers on the side.

"Did you take me to hospital? she asked, munching on toast and finding she was ravenous.

"No, we got Ambrose to stitch you up. He knows what he is doing. You'll be up and about in no time. Ah, here's Roman," he said as a huge beautiful looking Samoan guy padded towards them.

"Nice to see you looking after our guest so well Seth," he told them in a deep, smooth voice like molasses running off a spoon. "How are you feeling baby girl?" he added.

"OK, but a bit shaky thanks," she answered shyly.

"Not surprising, you took a few knocks last night," he told her. "What's your name?"

"Paris, Paris Jacobs," she told him shyly. She tried to get up then swayed and sat back down.

Maybe you should go and rest for a while," Roman told her. "Here, I'll take you back to your room."

With that he effortlessly swept her up into his strong tribal tattooed arms.

"See you later," called Seth.

"Yeah, thanks," she replied in a small voice.

Roman set her down gently in the bedroom.

"Anything you need, just ask. OK?" he told her.

Just that short hour being up had tired her greatly and the painkillers made her feel sleepy so she took advantage and fell somewhat more comforted into bed. They are keeping me safe, she yawned to herself as slumber took her.


	3. Chapter 3

When she awoke the first thing she noticed was that some clothes had been placed on a chair by the window. It was still daylight so she guessed it was late afternoon as the sun had moved and no longer shone so brightly into the bedroom. She hobbled out of bed and pulled off her ruined dress, and put on the T-shirt and yoga pants that had been left for her. These guys think of everything, she thought. Maybe they would take her home soon.

There was a soft knock at the door and as she called "Come in".

Roman popped his head round the door. "How you doing?" he asked.

"OK I think, thanks for the clothes."

"No problem. Your'e about the same size as my girlfriend. She always leaves stuff here when she comes to stay."

Of course, he had to have a girlfriend, Paris thought. He's too beautiful not to have one or many of them in fact.

"You coming out? We are just about to eat and you need that arm looking at."

Roman led her in to the kitchen where Seth was dishing up some food and talking to another man, a tall heavily built blonde who leant casually against the fridge with a beer in his hand. He wore a white wifebeater vest showing off his torso to perfection and blue jeans that hugged his body in all the right places. His arms were amazing, muscled, smooth and golden. In fact all three of them were super hot.

"Sit down, sit down," Seth told her, holding a stool out by the side of the kitchen island.

Paris' eye was caught instantly by the sulky looking blonde who didn't even look at her let alone acknowledge her presence. Roman walked over to them and then, seeing all three together it all came back to her and she paled slightly.

"I remember now," she said to no one in particular as three pairs of eyes fell on her. "You saved me, you saved me from him and you," she said while pointing at Dean. "You beat him so bad you might have even killed him and... you put me to bed I think."

Dean didn't respond, his eyes hooded and his face unreadable. He huffed and tapped his hand on his chest agitatedly.

"Yeah, well. Scumbags need fucking up," said Seth. "Let's eat," adding brightly to change the subject and putting a plate of very healthy food down before her.

Roman sat down but Dean stalked past them.

"Bro, you not eating?" Seth called.

"Later, lost my appetite," he spat as they all stared at his retreating back.

Roman and Seth exchanged a look which did not go unnoticed by Paris.

"Is...he ok?" she asked.

They paused then Roman said, "Don't worry about Ambrose, he gets a little crazy at times. Does his own thing, but he's cool really."

With that she had to be content.

"Sooo, how come you were in that club last night?" Seth asked.

"I was on a hen night. My best friend is getting married in a month. I was having such a good time and that guy, you know, started chatting me up and... Oh God how stupid I was. Some of my friends told me he looked like trouble but I guess I'd had too much drink and I was flattered. I think he spiked my drinks because I don't remember much until I was in that room with him..."

"Did he... you know...," Roman started to say.

She went quiet but then said, "No, no thank goodness but he was going to until you three burst in. I've never seen anything like it. You are some tough mothers and he was a big guy too." Paris mused. "What we're you all doing there?"

"Same as you," Seth said quickly.

"On a hen night?! Paris laughed.

Seth shook his head, "Nah, just a boys night out you know. Guess it was your lucky night that we were there."

"Yeah, I guess. I don't suppose you have my purse at all? I really need my phone," she asked hopefully.

"Someone you gotta call? Roman asked while looking at Seth knowing damn well that her purse and phone were in the SUV.

"Well yeah, my friends will wonder what happened to me."

"What about your folks?" Seth asked, "Will they be worried too?"

Odd question Paris thought. "No, they live on the other side of the country. I'm not due to visit for a few weeks but I call in almost every day."

"And work?" Roman added.

"I'm studying at the moment, it's summer vacation for six weeks," Paris told him wondering why the twenty questions.

"We think you should stay with us for a while baby girl. At least till you are all better. You are pretty delicate at the moment. We don't have your phone but you can borrow ours to call your friends and family. Just tell them you've taken a short holiday or something."

Paris pondered this offer. She really didn't feel well and wasn't able to think clearly plus these guys saved her life and obviously wanted to help her.

"Well OK, just till I'm better then," she agreed hesitantly. They made her feel bad saying no after all they had done for her.

"That's settled then," said Roman. "So let's get Ambrose to look at your arm."

Paris felt uneasy about that. "It's OK, I'll be fine. You don't need to bother him."

Roman just ignored her and shouted out "Ambrose, take a look at this arm will you."

Ambrose appeared, now with a leather jacket covering his chest, dark glasses and an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked sexy and cool but still very, very mean.

"I'm on my way out," he drawled.

"Take you two minutes bro," Seth told him.

Sighing like it was the last thing he wanted to do, he motioned for Paris to follow him in to the same bathroom as the night before. She complied nervously and perched on the bench. Ambrose surveyed her closely, his fingers running over her as he checked her injuries. She noticed his knuckles were grazed and marvelled that the same hands that had been the giver of so much brutal violence also had the capacity to heal. His touch made her jump and she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Keep still Paris," he spat.

Wow, he knows my name she thought, remembering that they hadn't been formally introduced and kept as still as a statue, hardly daring to breathe. He kept his sunglasses on and the cigarette still hung from his lips. His bottom lip was full and pouty, and totally kissable.

"Are you a doctor?" she offered quietly, trying to make conversation.

"Do I look like a fucking doctor?" he retorted, not looking at her face and still focusing on her body.

"No, I suppose not," she answered and could think of nothing else to say.

His fingers slid underneath the arm of her T-shirt as he tried to trace the stitches he had sewn. She flinched.

"Ow that hurts, " she cried.

"I told you to keep still! Lose the T-shirt. Now," he ordered.

"Why?" she asked worriedly.

"Cause I need to see the wound," he told her in a patronising voice.

She hesitated which pissed him off even more.

"Do it," he breathed menacingly. "Or I'll take it off for you."

"OK, OK," she replied and pulled the top over her head so that she was just sitting before him in her bra.

To be fair to him, he didn't even appear to look at her chest, he just concentrated on the cut and rubbed some kind of ointment into it, then threw her shirt to her.

"Done," he said and stalked out of the bathroom. She heard the front door slam and he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes, he finally won a bloody PPV! Hooray xx Thanks for reading this story and reviews are most welcome. Thanks to those who have reviewed so far too, you are very kind. Xx**

Dean sat brooding alone in a bar on the Las Vegas strip ordering drink after drink. If this deal didn't come off then he would have nothing. This was what he had dreamt about his whole shitty life, getting to the pinnacle just on his own ability but when he had met Roman and Seth, things changed and he was part of a team. A team that looked out for each other, had the same goals, knew what each other was thinking, would live or die by each other. He'd never had that in his life before, never trusted other people, he'd always been on his own. When they came along he finally found that he could rely on others and he now considered them as brothers. He wouldn't allow this girl to jeopardise that either.

For two years they had forced their way into the scene like a juggernaut, overcoming by force all those who had stood in their way, biting, clawing and scratching. It wasn't pretty but damn it was effective and now they stood on the precipice of being the absolute best, having the power and the rewards that came with it.

This girl, this girl was a problem. He bet they'd be looking for her, knowing that he, Seth and Roman would be keeping hold of her. He knew Randy Orton, her tormentor, the man who would now be looking for revenge. He knew what he was capable of, cruel, sadistic and totally remorseless, he was snake like, no wonder his nickname was 'The Viper'. Not that Dean was afraid. No way, he was scared of nothing and nobody. He relished the next meeting he would have with Orton and that gave him an idea.

Paris meanwhile had texted her friends under Roman's supervision feeling slightly awkward about it but Roman soon put her at ease again, asking if she wanted to watch a film and promising that he and Seth would take her out tomorrow to buy some clothes.

"Just think of it as a little holiday where you get spoilt," he said to her. "Now what shall we all watch? Your choice. Just don't make it too girly."

Dean returned late, Paris heard the front door shut and his footsteps stopped outside her bedroom door. Pretending to be asleep she heard the bedroom door handle turn, surely he wasn't going to come in! What could he possibly want from her. But the door didn't open. The handle was released, he must have changed his mind.

Good as his word Roman, along with Seth, took Paris out the next day to buy her a few things but Dean kept himself out of the way. She was feeling better but borrowed some dark glasses to cover her injuries. Paris didn't notice the car that followed them from the gates of the villa towards the Mall but the boys did.

"Baby girl, wait in the car a minute, will you," Roman said looking serious when they had parked up. It wasn't a request. As he and Seth stepped out, they locked the doors and she saw an immediate change in their countenance. Suddenly they had changed from the friendly guys that had been joking with her in the car a few short minutes ago into two menacing bad asses who swaggered towards a car parked across the street and leant into the driver's window.

Watching, she saw them have a heated exchange with the people in the car and then saw Roman reach in and pull the driver half out of the open window, get right up in his face and could only imagine the threats that were coming out of his mouth. He looked scary, someone not to be messed with. Seth looked on with amusement but as the passenger door opened he made to attack the occupant and the door quickly shut again as the person retreated back into the safety of the car. Throwing the driver back into the car, it screeched off in a whirl of dust. The boys returned to her like nothing had happened.

"Who were they?" Paris asked.

"Who do you mean," said Seth.

"The guys in that car who you practically beat up just now," she said.

"Nobody, nothing to worry about honey, didn't you see them try to cut us up in traffic back there? Seth told her.

"But..." she tried to continue.

"Baby girl, it's nothing to be concerned about OK," said Roman sharply.

Paris was taken aback so said no more about as she walked between them to the shops but she was beginning to feel that all was not as it seemed. It was odd that they could just switch back to being all jovial after what she had just witnessed but they did and also bought her way too much stuff, no cheap crap either for which she thanked them profusely. Dean was up when they returned, looking as hostile as ever.

"Paris, why don't you go have a rest in your room. Seth and I need to talk to Dean about something," said Roman. She guessed that she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"OK," she agreed and scooted off, if anything to get away from Dean's blue eyed death stare.

Making sure Paris was safely in her room, the three men gathered in the kitchen.

"We got followed, Randy's goons tailed us from the villa to the mall. They know she is here and he wants her," Seth told Dean. "Probably worried she'll go the police."

"More like he wants to fuck her brains out," Dean drawled. "She is unfinished business and in his eyes we took something that was his. What else did they say? Is the fight off?"

"Well they said that Triple H is pissed about it but willing to negotiate," Roman told him. "But he is out of the country till the weekend so I guess we'll have to wait till then."

Dean thought this over, it was better than he'd hoped. Looked like the deal could still be on with a few adjustments.

"They also said Randy cannot wait to see you again Dean." Roman told him.

"Great, the feeling is mutual." Dean responded with a tight smile. "They won't back out. They have to face us or they'll be the biggest pussies ever. There is no one better than us, we are the number one contenders and they have swerved us for too long. The longer they hold off, the weaker they look. If anything we can work this to our advantage."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked.

"Just leave it to me," was all he would say.

For Paris, the next few days were a chance to recover, each day she felt stronger and she kind of enjoyed staying at the villa but she was never allowed to go out on her own, even down the road to the local shops. Roman and Seth were always lovely to her but Dean was just the same. He either ignored her or snapped at her especially when he caught her looking at him which she found herself frequently doing. They boys worked out religiously several times a day, having a large gym inside the house. The gym looked out on to the swimming pool and she often lay on a sun bed and surreptitiously watched them working out (often shirtless) behind her dark glasses. (Well there are perks to being a guest of the Shield)

"What do you guys do for a living?" she asked one morning after they had returned from their workout. "I've never seen anyone train so much but you don't seem to go out to work."

"Umm, we are training for an event," Seth told her.

"Yeah, like professional athletes," Roman added.

"Cool," Paris replied but not really believing them.

Dean continued to look over her injuries daily and she both dreaded and yearned for these encounters. Terrified of annoying him more than she did just by her presence but feeling a strange excitement at being close to him and feeling his hands on her body. She wondered idly at times what other uses his hands could be put to and wondered why he hated her so much.

"You don't like me do you?' she asked him one day during their daily session in the treatment room.

His eyes flicked up to hers.

"Nope," he agreed.

"Why?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Don't ask me fucking questions that I don't want to answer," was all the response she got.


	5. Chapter 5

"How would you like to go out tonight for a drink?," said Seth over breakfast a week after she arrived. "There's a cool bar on the strip that we want to visit. Roman and I thought it would do you good to get out since your bruises have faded. What do you say?"

"Sure that would be great," she answered. Then took a deep breath and spoke again. "Um Seth, I've been thinking. I'm so grateful for everything you and Roman... and Dean have done for me but I'd really like to go home soon. I've got studying to do, and my friend's wedding is coming up so I was hoping that I could leave and get back to normal. I've certainly learned my lesson about getting picked up in bars by dodgy men." She was rambling now, unsure of his reaction.

Seth's answers whirled round in his head making him hesitate wishing that she'd asked Roman or even better Dean. He bet she wouldn't dare ask Dean such a question. "I don't think you are fully recovered yet but... I guess that's OK. We'll be sorry to see you go. Come out tonight and stay over the weekend though and we'll sort something out for next week. OK?"

"Thanks. I think I'll go for a swim this morning. Should I check with Dean about the stitches? They've practically dissolved so I should be able to get them wet now."

"Girl, even I don't ask Dean any questions in the morning," he laughed. "Takes him at least three hours to wake up properly. Just go for it."

Happy that she was able to go home and looking forward to a swim and a night out she skipped to her bedroom and found the new bikini that had been bought for her. Posing in front of the mirror she had to admit that it enhanced her lithe figure. The boys had taste. The smooth water felt good on her body and the warm desert sun shone down as she bobbed about, then climbed up on to a floating sun bed to relax.

"Would you look at that figure," said Roman who along with Seth were surreptitiously watching her from the gym.

"What you guys looking at?" called Dean as he swaggered into the gym.

"Just enjoying the view man, look," Seth pointed towards the pool.

Dean observed the bikini clad figure. "Nothing that interests me," he said and turned away.

"Liar," Seth retorted. "You're mean to her because you want to sleep with her. Just admit it!" he added chuckling.

"Do not!" Dean replied.

"Do too! Seth continued.

"Anyway, even if I did want to teach her a lesson in bed," Dean growled. "She won't be a problem for much longer."

"Well actually guys, she asked to go home this morning," Seth admitted. "I fobbed her off and said that we'd take her home after the weekend but I dunno, is that going to be possible?"

"In a word, nope," said Dean exasperatedly. "If we let her go, two things will happen, they'll find her and God knows what Randy will do to her..."

"Oh so you do care about her," interrupted Roman.

"Me? Nah, that's your lookout. Most importantly, we'll lose face and look weak. She needs to stay. If both of you can find a way to keep her here without her suspecting anything then fine. If not, then we keep her here by force," he told them grimly.

As Paris readied herself for the night out, she put on the one dress which they had bought her which made her legs look endless. A day tanning in the sun negated the need for tons of make up, not that she needed much to accentuate her pretty face anyway. She covered her injured arm with a jacket that complimented the dress and let her hair loose and semi curled trailing down her back. Roman wolf whistled at her as she entered the kitchen, Seth and Dean exchanged a look and she felt oddly exposed as Dean's eyes unashamedly ran up and down her body several times.

Christ those boys scrub up well she thought as they escorted her to the car. Seth in a black skinny trouser suit, his hair tied in a sleek ponytail looked devine. Roman handsome in dark jeans and a navy blue button down shirt that hugged his muscular torso and Dean... Well Dean still wore his blue jeans and leather jacket but had lost his usual wife beater and wore a shirt too which made her mouth go dry. Despite the growing dusk, sunglasses adorned his beautiful face covering those ice blue eyes.

During the drive to the club, Dean had his arm along the back seat, his fingers centimetres from her hair. Seth turned the radio up and chatted to Roman up front.

"You look good," Dean said to her quietly.

Paris was astonished.

"Thank you. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she replied blushing, God why was she blushing, that no goodness it was dark in the car she thought.

"Yeah, well I won't make a habit of it," he answered with small smile, bringing her back down to earth.

The club was new and therefore packed being the latest hangout.

"Look at that queue," Paris. "We'll be waiting for an hour to get in."

But the boys swaggered past the long line with the utmost confidence and when they reached the security and red ropes, fist bumped the bouncers, had a few words and were ushered through to the lift which took them to a private VIP bar which overlooked the main dance floor.

Paris overheard one of the bouncers say, "Always a pleasure to see the Shield at one of our clubs."

'The Shield?" she pondered.

The three of them together had a kind of aura about them which made people stare. Women at their total gorgeousness and men with respect or apprehension. They took a table and ordered bottles of vodka and champagne costing God knows how many hundreds of dollars. Those boys could put the drink away, they were obviously well known and Paris was introduced to person after person who came over to chat and drink with them. All night she was aware of Dean's eyes on her and when they were not trained on her he seemed to be on alert for something else, trouble maybe, of what she couldn't tell.

"Dance with me?" she giggled to Seth after a couple of hours, feeling merry.

"OK," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "Let's go."

She was having so much fun as they whirled around but on their way back from the dancefloor she spotted Dean chatting to a petite blonde girl who had approached their table.

"Who is that?" she asked Seth.

"No idea," he replied. "Ambrose never has trouble picking up puss... I mean ladies," he corrected himself.

Paris suddenly felt a pang of jealousy in her stomach. Why the hell should she feel like that, she thought. He was never nothing but horrible to her, what should it matter who he dates or picks up. He hated her.

Sitting down between Seth and Roman who were chatting to various people, she was distracted by the girl's voice which was seriously getting on her nerves. The girl had a good figure, obviously fake boobs, long blonde hair. Fucking barbie doll, Paris thought. They stood a little way from the table, the blonde's back towards them with Dean facing them. Paris tried to ignore their flirting but found it impossible as Dean's eyes kept finding hers. Bastard, she thought.

Things got worse as Dean's hands started to roam over the girl's body, then Paris stiffened and her fists clenched as he moved in to kiss her. Paris couldn't tear herself away from the display as his tongue obscenely dominated the girl's willing mouth but his eyes bore in to Paris' wickedly as he did so.

Seth noticed that Paris had gone very still and pale and he knew why when he saw the scene before him. '

'Uh oh, she's falling for Ambrose, poor girl and why the fuck is he winding her up,' he thought.

"Hey, you OK," he asked.

"Umm, yeah, I'm fine just a little tired," she lied.

"We'll go in five minutes, I'll just tell Roman, say goodbye to our friends and find out what Ambrose is doing."

But Ambrose was leaving with the girl. He fist bumped the guys goodbye and smirked at Paris who coldly stared at the blonde.

'Bloody whore!' she thought.


	6. Chapter 6

In the car on the way back Paris said nothing, all she could think about was what Dean might be doing to that girl right this very minute and it pained her to think of it. Seth had filled Roman in before they left the club so they didn't ask her any questions.

She spotted something poking out from underneath one of the seats, it was cream coloured and sparkly. She pulled at it with her foot, careful not to let the boys see what she was doing. It was her purse. Bending down quickly to pick it up, she wondered if they knew it was there all along.

'I'm being paranoid,' she reassured herself, but still she not want them to know she had found it, she wanted her phone to google 'the Shield', to find out who they really were and stuffed it under her jacket.

The boys wanted to stay up, drinking and playing video games so it was late by the time she was alone in her room. Damn, her iPhone had to be out of battery didn't it! She'd have to sneak out when they were all fast asleep and find a charger.

Creeping out of her room at about 04.00am under the pretence of getting a glass of water, she padded lightly down the corridor listening for any movement from the boys rooms. Reassured by their snoring she snuck into the kitchen without turning any lights on and checked all the plug sockets for chargers, but to her frustration she couldn't find any. Realising she did actually need a drink of water, she reached up and took a glass out of the cupboard and turned the faucet on.

"What are you sneaking about for?" an unmistakable rasp rang out. Paris gasped and swung round. A metallic click and a flare of fire illuminated Dean's face as he lit a cigarette while lounging back in a chair with a drink in his other hand.

"J...just getting a drink of water," she stammered.

"Oh Paris, Paris, why do I not believe you?" he told her.

"You shouldn't be smoking in the house," she said trying to change the subject.

"Well, I guess I'm just a very bad boy, aren't I?" he said slowly getting up and stalking towards her.

Paris tried to edge away from him but he was too quick and soon had her trapped in a corner against the hard granite worktop. He stared at her, not letting her move and inhaled deeply on his smoke, blowing it out into her face.

"Do you think that's sexy?" she coughed.

He chuckled lightly and flicked it in to the sink.

"You look... tense Paris," he drawled, tilting his head to one side.

"Let me go Ambrose, I want to go to bed," she told him as boldly as she could.

His knuckles brushed down her cheek, making her bite her lip.

"Good idea, let's go," he smirked.

"In your dreams. How was your blonde?!" she countered.

"Why? You jealous? She gave me exactly what I wanted, unlike some people round here."

"What are you talking about? You hate me, don't you?" she cried.

"Shuuush, do you want to wake the whole house up?" he responded.

"Yes, actually I do. Then Roman and Seth will, will..."

"Stop me?" he finished for her. "Let me tell you something," he added while one hand rested lightly on the nape of her neck, the other brushing the side of her breast, his thumb circling a hardening nipple. He was toying with her. He could practically feel her heart crashing against her ribs. "I saved your life, so you owe me."

"Let me go Ambrose," she repeated. "I'm going to scream."

"If you scream and they wake up, I'll beat the shit out of both of them and still fuck you. Do you understand?!" he menaced.

He was frightening her now. This was too much like her encounter with her tormentor from the club last week.

"Fuck you, I'm leaving the day after tomorrow and I'll never have to see any of you again. Especially you psycho."

"Leaving? I don't think so."

"Seth said it was OK and Roman too and he's in charge isn't he?"

Dean laughed in her face. "You think Roman is in charge? You don't leave till I say so and unfortunately for you, the boys do as I say."

Paris felt weak at his comment and tears pricked at her eyes.

"You are just like him, aren't you? The guy from the club. Go on then, do what you want to me if it makes you feel good. What you gonna do? Drug me like he did, hit me like he did, cut me like he did. Look there's a knife over there, knock yourself out. I give up," she sobbed.

At that moment Dean felt a compassion that he had not often experienced before and kicked himself for going too far. Seth was right, he did want her and wanted to keep her safe like they did and it scared him. He only went with the trampy blonde to make Paris jealous.

"I'm nothing like Randy Orton," he told her soberly.

"You know his name?" she asked incredulously. Oh it was all unravelling now. "Who are you guys and what do you want from me?"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Tomorrow, we'll talk tomorrow," he told her.

"No, damn it. Tell me now!" she demanded.

Dean had to restrain himself so he told her quite clearly and slowly through gritted teeth, "I just said we will talk tomorrow. Now go to bed, alone you'll be glad to hear and we will talk tomorrow!"

He stepped aside and she fled sobbing to her room, locking the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone, just one update chapter today. As always thanks for your kind reviews, keep them coming please, it really helps with motivation. Nattiebroskette, yes he is a prick at the minute so I have added a line for you to spot in this chapter! xx**

"Paris, are you ok?" Seth knocked on her door late the next morning and tried the handle. It was locked. "Are you hungover or something? We were gonna go out for something to eat... Paris, Paris, seriously I'm getting legit worried now, can you unlock the door sweetie?"

"Go away," her voice finally said.

'Woah,' thought Seth, 'That was unlike her. She must have taken the Ambrose situation hard.'

"Roman," he hissed. "She won't come out of her room. Door's locked and everything. She told me to go away."

"Where's Ambrose?" Roman asked.

"Looks like he didn't come back last night," Seth answered. "His bed's not been slept in."

"Man, I'm starving and we can't leave her here alone, can we? Ambrose will kill us." Roman grumbled.

"You think about food way too much, bro!" Seth joked. "It's fucking Ambrose's fault, he was making her jealous on purpose. Told you he liked her, didn't I? I've known that dude for too long not to know what he is thinking."

"Let me try and get her out', said Roman, knocking on the door. "Baby girl, open the door please."

"No, not unless you agree to let me go home now, this instant!" she demanded.

"Did you hear that?" Roman whispered to Seth, who just nodded.

"How about you come out and we talk about it?" Seth called through the door.

"How about you stop lying to me about who you three are and the fact that you are practically keeping me prisoner and let me go," she shouted back.

That silenced them.

"Paris, baby girl, look I really don't want to do it but if you don't come out I'll have to break the door down," Roman said as gently as he could.

Silence. Then they heard her voice say "Fine," and she opened the door and marched out with her head in the air. "Where's Ambrose?" she demanded.

"Not here, why?" said Seth.

"Because he is a prick and I want to slap him in the face. Hard!" she told them. "And I need to talk to him," she added. "But since he isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

With that she ran towards the front door, wrenched it open and ran down the drive to the electric gates with Seth and Roman in hot pursuit. They were locked shut and too high to climb so she tapped madly on the keypad trying to guess the PIN number that would release them. The boys stopped running and stood watching her.

Seth did feel sorry for her, he really liked the girl. "Paris," he said quietly. "You're not going to be able to get out this way. When Dean gets back, we'll talk I promise."

Paris turned to face them and slid with her back down the railings, head in her hands and cried.

They were suddenly all startled by a screech of tyres and a huge silver car skidding to a stop outside the gates. All three watching in disbelief as the rear door opened and a figure was thrown out in to the road, tumbling over and over.

"Dean!" Paris screamed while watching Seth and Roman open the gates and and run to their brother, who was lying semi unconscious on the ground.

The car reversed slowly and as it passed the gates, the passenger window drew down and the first thing Paris noticed to her horror was a long tanned, muscular arm covered in skull tattoos. It's owner had dark shaved hair and a handsome predatory face. His eyes bore into hers and he mouthed at her, "You're mine." Then called out to the boys in a deep southern drawl, "See you in two weeks gentlemen."

All thoughts of escaping were gone as she saw the car rev off at speed and watched Seth and Roman carry Dean between them into the house, the latter limping and covered in blood and bruises.

"What the fuck happened man?" asked Seth as they lay Dean down on the leather sofa in the kitchen. "Paris, get the medical kit out of the bathroom now," he added urgently.

She ran to get it shaking and also brought water and towels. Roman paced about growling.

"I'm OK," Dean rasped. "I've had worse. The fuckers are not going to know what hits them in two weeks."

"So the fight's still on?" Roman asked.

"Yeah," Dean coughed. "I went to see Triple H, bust in to the club, caused a little aggro to his security and got brought to him. He was pretty understanding so I knew there would be trouble, he was too calm. Terms have changed, $3m to the winners... and Paris."

"What?! Your kidding right?" Seth spluttered. Paris thought she was going to faint having nearly got the gist of what was happening.

"It was the only way," Dean said, rubbing his shoulder "I knew they couldn't back out of the fight but Randy is seriously pissed about what occurred last weekend. Triple H said if we don't put Paris up as a prize then they'll come here mob handed and take her from us. This is the only way to save her. I thought shit that was easy and was about to leave when Triple H told me that Randy wanted to see me. Cool, I thought, I'm always up for a fight, so he comes in and starts running his mouth about what he is going to do with Paris when they win so I fucking decked him. Then loads of their fighters came in and their numbers caught up with me and they all had a go so it was well and truly game over."

"I don't fucking believe this?" Paris screeched. "What are you all taking about?"

Roman looked at Dean who nodded. "We need to level with you sweetie. We're fighters."

"You mean like boxing?" she replied.

"No, not really," added Seth. "Like its illegal street fighting but in a ring or a cage but these days it's got big, very big. There is a whole underground scene and the money is off the scale. Fights get promoted on social media. We are seriously good at what we do, the best faction since, well since... Evolution."

"Evolution?" Paris queried.

"Triple H, Batista and Randy Orton - the spoilt, entitled, third generation fighter who wants you in his bed or worse." Seth told her grimly.

"Together we are the Shield," said Dean. "Three in your face, young, hungry badasses who do not give a shit and will take you down no matter what you who you think you are or how good you think you are. The Shield is better than anyone fighting on this earth."

Roman continued, "The night you were in Randy's room at the club. We were next door with Triple H, negotiating terms for the fight. It's taken months to get them to agree because they are still the top dogs and do not want to relinquish their spot at the top of the business but we are too good to ignore. We have destroyed everyone in our path. So we're getting down to business, signing the contract and we kept hearing you, as it turns out, screaming. Now, Triple H is just ignoring it but Seth and I just kept looking at each other..."

"I didn't give a fuck," Dean interrupted. "No offence babe."

"Shut up Dean," Seth cried.

"I wouldn't expect expect anything else Ambrose," Paris told him and turned back to Roman. "Go on."

"So we knew some shit was going down that we were not going to tolerate. When we shook hands on the deal with Triple H, we were ushered out of his office by security, two really small guys called J and J, like why the fuck would you have two midgets as security!"

The boys laughed.

"and Seth and I heard another real loud scream so we just burst in to the room and saw what that sicko trying to do, well you know what he was trying to do to you, so we bust him up. Fucked him over real good. Well Ambrose did actually. I told you he gets crazy. Once his blood is up there is no stopping him."

"Then we grabbed you and got you out of there sharpish before any of their back up arrived." Seth added. "You were really out of it. Dean stitched you up and we've been figuring out what to do since."

"So now you know," croaked Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! After this one, the next chapter might be a few days wait, so sorry about that, but it will be worth it, big scene coming up... ㈶0**

**Angelsdee, bless Seth and Roman, they are lovely to write in this story! **

It was a lot to take in and Paris felt suddenly very weak and sat down in one of the leather chairs while staring at Dean who was still lying prone on the sofa.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked him quietly meaning with his injuries since he had looked after hers all week.

"Nah," he grinned getting up stiffly from the sofa, "Unless you want to rub me down in the shower?" He paused and smirked at her, even beat up he could still be cocky and sexy. "Let me guess - in my dreams!"

She laughed at that, despite the shock of finding out the truth. Maybe relations were thawing. Certainly, the sight of him being thrown out of the car horrified her and she had wanted to run to him and hold him but the others had gotten there first. He was so confusing, acting all badass and mean saying he didn't care, then saving her life once and then getting a beat down for protecting her again. Making her jealous in the club and practically overpowering her the night before. She thought back to the feel of his hands on her body, the blue eyes that had gone dark with lust but he'd messed that up too.

"Well I still really need something to eat," said Roman impatiently. "You both coming? he asked Seth and Paris.

"I'm OK thanks, but could you bring something back for me. Oh and Dean too. I bet he'll want something. I just need to think about things." Paris told him.

"No problem," said Roman.

"Oh hey, I know," said Seth sounding excited and turning the smart TV on and pinging up You Tube. "You can research us, he tapped in the Shield and dozens of videos came up and he handed her the remote. "Enjoy, you'll soon see you are in safe hands. See you later."

Paris watched video after video entranced as she saw the three men absolutely dominate anyone who they fought with a brutality and violence that she had never seen before except maybe in films but not in real life. Their outfits made them look totally intimidating, they dressed in black with combat boots, trousers and tactical vests that accentuated every toned, muscled inch of them. She closed her eyes and imagined the fear that they must inspire in opponents when they surrounded their stricken bodies and slowly stalked a circle around them before picking them up and delivering a devastating triple power bomb.

Not noticing when Dean came back in to the kitchen as she had her eyes covered while Seth curb stomped someone's head into a steel chair, he flopped down beside her with his feet up on the table, groaning slightly in pain. He was dressed in a grey ribbed wife beater with loose tracksuit bottoms, his feet bare.

"It helps if you actually look at what you are watching," he drawled.

"You guys are so brutal," she replied.

"Does it scare you, who we are and what we do?" he asked softly. He face was close to hers and he smelt clean and fresh from the shower, his dark blonde hair wet and slicked back off his face.

"A little," she whispered.

"Did I scare you last night?" he whispered back while moving his lips oh so close to hers.

She just nodded.

"I'm sorry for that,' he admitted truthfully. "You just, I dunno, do something to me."

Butterflies were doing a jig in her stomach and reached up to stroke her fingers over his blackening eye.

"Did they hurt you bad?" she asked softly.

"Nothing and nobody can hurt me baby, but you can help to make me feel better if you want too..."

His lips brushed hers and she trembled as his tongue slowly entered her mouth tasting her for the first time. She responded instantly by licking the seam of his bottom lip, making him groan lightly as she bit down on it gently. He pulled her on to his lap so she was straddling him. The kiss grew more and more passionate and she ran her hands under his t shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest rise and fall and his tongue bury itself more deeply claiming her mouth utterly. She pressed her centre on his hardness, grinding down on it then... the front door opened and Roman and Seth let themselves noisily in carrying bags of delicious smelling food.

"Jesus!" Dean sighed and rolled his eyes before quickly throwing her off him. She landed with a gentle thud on the other end of the sofa and Paris curled her legs up trying to look casual, her face flushed and her breathing ragged.

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife in that room. Roman raised his eyebrows and smirked at Seth who was looking back and forth at Dean and Paris in amusement, the former biting on a thumb nail, focusing on but not really seeing the TV screen.

"You were quick," Dean stated sarkily not looking up.

"Yeah, well we figured that you guys would be starving by now so we just got take out for all of us," Seth chuckled.

Paris jumped up, straightening out her clothes and hair self consciously and busied herself grabbing plates, cutlery, napkins and glasses. The three men exchanged a knowing look, Dean flipped them both the middle finger and glared.

"Sorry man," mouthed Roman while sniggering.

Paris helped them to unpack the food and soon the table was laden with waffles, pancakes, crispy bacon and syrup. Fresh buttered rolls, fried hash browns, hot coffee and the most divine orange juice she'd ever tasted.

"Should you guys be eating this sort of stuff when you are in training? Paris asked watching them all stuff their faces, while devouring a heavenly waffle.

"Not really, but everyone has to cheat sometimes," Roman replied. "Anyway, I'll do an extra shift in the gym later to make up for it."

"Count me out," said Dean.

"What's the damage Ambrose?" asked Seth.

"They fucked my shoulder up mainly, it's a little sore. Probably need to strap it up but I'm out of the gym for a couple of days at least."

"You need to rest up." Roman agreed.

They continued eating in silence for a few minutes.

"Can one of you lend me a phone charger?" Paris blurted out.

"What for?" Seth asked innocently.

"Duh, for my phone which I found last night along with my purse in the SUV on the way back from the club and don't tell me you didn't know it was there all along," she told them with her arms crossed defiantly.

The did look a bit guilty but said nothing so she carried on, "Look, I understand what's going on now and the way I see it I've got no choice in the matter but I don't need to be watched like a child. I know you have my best interests at heart and that I need to stay here with you till you beat the shit out of those bastards. I'm not going to call the police or tell any of my friends and family what's been going on but not getting in touch with them is going to get them worried. I have to trust you, three complete strangers, with my life so the least you can do is trust me too."

They considered her speech and nodded. "Deal," said Seth (he really was a sweetheart) and clenched a fist and put it out there, the other two followed and motioned for her to do the same.

"Oh, this is your Shield salute, I saw you do it at the end of your fights," she laughed.

Paris's attention went back to the TV where another video of the Shield was running. They weren't fighting this time but we're talking trash to some nameless opponents on camera. Dean in the centre, flanked by Seth and Roman telling the camera exactly what they were going to do to them and how. God they looked mean.

"What's that all about?" she asked.

"It's called a promo. Where we film a short video to promote a fight, trash talk and get people interested or use it to wind possible opponents up." Seth explained. Ambrose is pretty good with his mouth," he added.

Dean smirked at Paris and she blushed and looked away.

"We need to film one for this fight with Evolution," Roman told her. "You can help if you want, at last we've now got someone to hold the camera! Today is Sunday, the fight is a week on Saturday. I feel ready now but there's two weeks hard prep left but with Ambrose out of action for a couple of days, I think I'll go visit the girlfriend and family. How about you Seth?"

"Yeah, I could do with seeing a few people but we'd have to be back by Tues night to get down to training on Wednesday. Is that OK with you guys?" he asked looking first at Dean then at Paris.

"Whatever," Dean said, while Paris just nodded, her insides flipping at the thought of being all alone for two days with Dean Ambrose.


	9. Chapter 9

**So sorry for the long gap, lots going on... Super long chapter to make up for the wait hope you are all still with me. PS. Well look who's got himself another title shot! Hooray! **

After all the excitement, the remainder of the day dragged. Dean went back to bed no doubt nursing his injuries, while Roman and Seth were in the gym. Paris charged her phone and spoke to her friends and family, reassuring them that she was fine and spent the rest of her time in the pool dreamily thinking about Dean and how good that kiss had been. The thought of it made her insides swirl deliciously, she knew what would have happened if the boys hadn't come back just at that moment and she wanted it, she wanted him. He was too gorgeous to deny him anything but now he had disappeared into his room.

There was still no sign of him when Roman and Seth were leaving

"Bye Paris, take care of Dean for us," Roman said giving her a kiss on her cheek.

"Later baby," said Seth pulling her in for a hug. "No wandering about on your own. Stick close to Ambrose, OK?"

'That will be a hardship,' she said wryly to herself while nodding solemnly at Seth.

"Yo Dean!" Roman shouted as they passed his bedroom while Paris followed them to the front door. "Stay out of trouble and look after our girl here. See you Wednesday."

"See you bro," added Seth.

"Yeah, yeah, got it," came a raspy reply from behind the door.

Paris watched them pull away in the SUV and walked back in to the villa, closing the door behind her. She wanted to go to his room and throw herself at him, yet she held herself back and took a shower, washed and curled her hair, put some make up on, changed into nice underwear and a new outfit in anticipation of what he would probably do to her later that night.

'Let him make the first move,' she thought and settled down in front of the TV with some snacks. The time ticked by, 20.00 came and went, then 21.00, then 22.00 and still no sign of him. All the while Paris burned with desire and frustration and still Dean did not stray from his room.

Dean was contemplating the past 24 hours lying on his bed where he'd been all day, partly to recover from his injuries which despite bragging to Paris about not being hurt, in fact they hurt like a motherfucker, especially his shoulder. Partly too because he wasn't sure how he felt about Paris because she stirred up emotions that he had not felt before. When he looked at her he felt warm and protective and it worried him. She had looked so vulnerable when they told her the truth and watched their fight videos from in between her fingers. He just couldn't stop himself from kissing her and would have taken her all the way right there and then had they not been disturbed.

He remembered her screaming his name in horror as he was tossed out of the car and that son of a bitch Randy Orton frightening her again. The cold anger he felt towards Orton had quadrupled at that moment. Dean couldn't wait to get his revenge on him and for once it was not just about money and glory. It was personal.

Despite this, he spent most of the afternoon talking himself out of getting close to her again. Not wanting to admit he might have some genuine feelings towards her. Women to him were only ever purely for recreation, for picking up in bars or after fights where they were lots of willing companions, dressed up to the nines, just dying to ensnare a fighter for the night in the hope of becoming a regular fixture on his arm. Dean had women throwing themselves at him and he took full advantage but always discarded them the next morning, or if they were really unlucky, the same night once he was done with them. No, he didn't need a woman in his life especially one that had the potential to change everything.

Deciding at midnight to just go to bed and disregarding her earlier advice to herself about not making the first move, Paris paused outside his bedroom, took a deep breath and knocked softly.

"Dean," she said quietly. "Are you OK?"

No reply. She knocked again, harder this time.

"Dean?" she offered, hoping for some response. Silence.

'Fine,' she thought huffily. 'Why was he so bloody confusing? Hadn't she been through enough?'

She turned away from the door and had gone a couple of steps when his bedroom door opened and he was suddenly just standing there before her in nothing but tracksuit bottoms, his golden chest bare, arms folded, hair messy and those eyes, those blue eyes were dark and his expression hostile.

"What do you want Paris?" he drawled.

The sight of him in this state, plus his proximity to her made her voice disappear and for a moment she just mouthed at him like a fish.

'I want you, that's what,' she shouted at him inside her head.

Regaining her composure she shrugged. "Just checking you are OK," she said casually with as much confidence as she could muster.

"How nice of you," he responded mockingly. The corridor was dark, the only light came from his open bedroom door and threw shadows all around. He moved towards her and she instinctively backed a step away till her body met a wall. Dean caged her in with both arms and loomed over her.

"Why are you moving away from me baby?" he whispered into her ear.

"I don't know," she answered shakily. "You're so intimidating at times, not sure," rambling nervously on.

"You're all dressed up," he stated while picking a strand of her hair and twirling it between his fingers. "Is that for my benefit?" There was an edge to his voice that she couldn't understand. Paris reached up to stroke his jawline, feeling the rough stubble beneath her fingers and wishing it was crashing against her face.

He closed his eyes, feeling her soft touch and for a few seconds let himself imagine all the things he could do with her body. He wavered, debating what to do but then he let out a low growl and grasped her hand with his and took it away.

"No," he said firmly. "This isn't gonna work."

Paris looked up bewildered at him.

"But, but what about this morning?" she whispered.

"I'd just had seven bells of shit knocked out of me. Wasn't thinking straight. Anyway," he added. "You're nothing special."

Tears welled up in her pretty eyes as Paris practically wilted in front of him. 'Fuck it, I've gone too far again,' Dean cursed to himself wanting to take her in his arms and soothe the pain he had just caused. Instead he dropped her hand, backed away and slammed back into his room leaving her alone in the dark corridor. Staring at his closed bedroom door Paris made her way slowly to hers. 'Bastard, bastard, bastard,' she repeated to herself in between tears and softly cried herself to sleep.

She woke with a new resolve. It was Monday, a new week and they had two days to get through till the boys returned. Paris decided to be polite and if something did happen the great, if not well she'd really know where she stood. She got up, had a shower and put her bikini on. It was going to be a hot day and she doubted that Dean would take her out of the villa into town. There was no sign of him when she went into the kitchen, made herself some breakfast and switched You Tube on to watch more Shield videos.

Engrossed in watching the fights, she jumped slightly when Dean made his appearance in the kitchen. She shyly turned around, her head resting on folded arms watching him stalk past her to the fridge where he grabbed a juice. Just the sight of him made her stomach flip and her heart race. He wore a baseball cap back to front, dark glasses and just a pair of shorts. He was clearly going to try to ignore her.

"Morning," Paris said in a quiet voice.

Dean looked slightly surprised and just nodded his head at her curtly before opening the French doors and headed out to a sun lounger next to the pool. The heat was baking so a short while later Paris decided to join him outside and go for a swim. 'Sod him and his 'I want you but don't want you' attitude,' she thought as she sashayed past him and dipped a toe into the cool silky water.

It really was a glorious day, hot and sunny so Paris alternated between sunning herself by the poolside then getting back in to the water to cool off again. Dean stayed where he was at the other side of the pool apparently asleep which afforded her a good viewpoint of surreptitiously watching the sun burnish his Demi God body to a deeper gold. Her eyes drank him in and there was no use denying that she still wanted to get close to him even after his treatment the night before. Hours passed in this way and seeing him stir, Paris swam over to his side of the pool.

"Excuse me, Dean," she said.

He didn't sit up to look at her but sighed audibly and said "Yep?"

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied.

"That's good...um I just wondered if you wanted something to eat?" She knew he hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. "I'm just about to make some lunch..."

Dean paused then replied. "Sure."

"What would ..." she started to say.

"Anything," he snapped interrupting her.

"Okay," Paris replied and climbed out of the pool making her way back inside the villa.

Dean watched her walk off, his loins stirring at the sight of her pert backside while shaking his head at his own attitude. She was such a sweet girl and he was being so fucking horrible to her but still he did not want to give in. Ten minutes later Paris returned carrying a tray with two plates of chicken and potato salad and ice cold drinks. Setting his plate and glass down on the table next to him she made to walk back to the other side of the pool with her lunch but Dean in a fit of conscience indicated with a click of his fingers that she should sit next to him.

"No it's fine, I'll go over there," she told him.

He shrugged and Paris sat down on a table a few metres away and they ate in silence.

'Well this couldn't get much more awkward,' she thought. The day passed in much the same way, both of them sneaking secret longing glances at each other. Paris trying to make occasional conversation and getting rebuffed curtly. She couldn't stop herself, realising it was winding him up gave her a small sense of victory and also because she wanted his attention no matter what the outcome.

It was seriously pissing Dean off. Normally, if Seth and Roman were here he would just head off to a bar to get away from her, pick up a girl and screw her senseless but he had to stay here and look after this...this temptress.

"Dean," she asked late that afternoon. "Can you look at my arm? It's been aching today."

"You gotta be joking," he answered not looking up from his sun bed.

"No really, could you? Please..." she pleaded.

"Jesus! Come here then," he sighed.

Paris pulled herself out of the pool, water ran off her smooth tanned skin in rivulets as she approached Dean as sexily as she could muster. He licked his lips at the sight of her and tried to ignore the lust building inside him. She sat sideways on the edge of his lounger presenting her arm to him. Her breathing hitched as he swept her hair to the other side so he could finger her neatly stitched wound.

"Nothing wrong with it," he told her. "Probably all that fucking swimming you've been doing." He moved close to her neck, so close she could feel the heat of his breath against it. He slowly turned her face towards his and strafed a thumb over her mouth.

'He's going to kiss me again,' she thought excitedly.

Instead he smirked wickedly at her. "Now stay out of my way, there's a good girl."

"You are such an asshole," she told him coldly.

"Yeah, well you need to get the fucking message," he replied.

He stood up abruptly and stormed off into the villa. She didn't see him again that evening and decided against knocking on his bedroom door later that night. He clearly didn't want anything to do with her.

It was a warm, sultry night and she lay on top of the bed in just her underwear and drifted off into an uneasy sleep with visions of Dean flitting in and out of her mind. Was she dreaming that the bedroom door opened and he was silhouetted in the doorway staring intently at her? Was she imagining the sight of him clad in blue jeans, which hugged his lean hips, the top button casually undone, dark blonde hair slicked back, his golden muscular torso and arms tensed, fists slowly clenching and unclenching as he lazily surveyed her body?

Apparently not as within seconds she was pinned to her bed barely able to move under his weight.

"I promised myself I would not touch you again Paris," he breathed huskily and kissed her hard on her lips while she writhed beneath him. "But you had to keep parading your hot little body around the pool today hmmm?" He kissed her again, this time his tongue gaining entry not caring whether she liked it if not. "Making me food and acting all concerned. Well this sugar, is what you get for teasing me all day." He ripped off her bra which snapped in two at the clasp and held her wrists tightly, his growing hardness restrained under his jeans pressed against her upper thigh as he ground his hips against her.

"This is what you wanted isn't it baby?" he demanded as his tongue captured a hard nipple.

"Yess," she hissed. "Please...don't stop."

"I don't intend to," he spat. "You're mine tonight."

Paris wrapped her legs around his waist bucking and writhing with frustration because he still had her wrists held fast.

"Let me touch you please," she begged.

"Patience," he growled. "Not until I say you can. You've tormented me all day. Now it's my turn."

Torment her he did, kissing, stroking and nipping at her entire body leaving her in a trembling pool of desire before finally releasing his grip and allowing her to do the same to him. His body was so strong and defined and she explored it with wonder, he was a powerful athlete and each curve of a muscle revealed another just further on.

Kissing each other deeply, there was no more time for caress, just an animal urge to come together hard and fast and now. Dean stripped off her panties in one fell swoop and flung them across the bedroom. He knelt up on his knees, straddling her and paused for a few seconds to survey the beautiful naked form below him, rolling his neck back and forth. Paris waited trembling for him to strike as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans and released his impressive erection.

"Oh Christ," she whispered at the size of it.

Dean smirked but said nothing, he ran his hand over her centre, causing her to squeal, fluffing up the flat bush then trailed his hand down her legs till they reached her ankles.

"Up," he demanded, lifting her legs straight up in the air and positioned himself closed to her entrance, rubbing his cock ever so lightly through her slick folds. Paris moaned and gripped the bedsheets, throwing her head left and right at the feel of him.

"Look at me Paris," he snapped. "Look at me while I fuck you. Tell me what you want."

"You... I want you..." she breathed almost incoherently. "Now... please Dean..."

For an awful moment she thought he was going to pull away and leave her there un-sated on the bed and continue with his wicked game but to her joy he slammed into her fast and hard causing both of them to cry out. He stayed there seated to the hilt, pushed her legs apart and and drove in deeper as his lips found hers and from then on it was as passionate and wild as a first time together should be till both of them came spectacularly undone around each other.

They lay panting side by side, looking into each other eyes as they came down from the high but then Dean rose up from the bed making as if leave her there on her own.

"Don't leave Dean. Stay with me..." she asked softly.

He wavered, then nodded and lay back down. Paris snuggled into his chest breathing in the scent of him and he pulled his arm around her tightly before falling into a deep sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**How great is it that Dean is getting this push?! So good to see him with the WWE belt even though it's not really his yet. Won't be long before it is though we all hope. Latest chapter is here. Remember, reviews are so welcome. Xxx**

Morning came and Paris awoke and watched him sleeping in wonder, revelling in the comfort of his arm still wrapped around her naked body and noting his breathing was steady and even. In sleep all his aggression, snarkyness and intimidating ways disappeared. His hair was one mop of dark blonde mess. Long, thick eyelashes curled into full cheeks brushed with golden stubble, a cute dimple showing in one of them. Those lips which she ached to kiss again were full and pouty and oh so tempting. Too tempting, she couldn't help herself and brushed her lips against them withdrawing quickly as he stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly whilst stretching and yawning.

"Good Morning," Paris replied shyly.

Dean propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at her. Even just his blue eyed gaze had her squirming with desire.

"Oh Paris, what am I going to do with you?" he mused.

"Are you going to pretend this didn't happen and be all mean to me again?" she asked directly.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, "I dunno yet. I told you... you do things to me."

"Well why is that so bad? Paris asked.

"It's complicated. I don't do girlfriends," he pouted. "I just fuck."

"Really? You've been reading too much 50 Shades!" she told him sarcastically. "And anyway who said I want to be your girlfriend?

"Ha, don't make me laugh Paris, I can see right through you. You're that type of girl. You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you? He stared at her and Paris dropped her eyes first.

"Yeah, I thought so," he told her smugly.

"Well that might be true, but you are still an asshole," she told him angrily and stormed off to the shower leaving him chuckling after her.

'She's adorable when she's pissed off,' Dean thought to himself as he followed her in to the bathroom. Paris was crossly scouring herself under the boiling hot jet of water in an attempt to remove all trace of him. Dean watched her for a while, his lust building, then flung the shower door open making her turn around and jump.

"Go away Ambrose," she told him.

He leant casually against the door, arms folded, blocking her exit. "Oh it's Ambrose is it now?" he chuckled. "Last night it was 'Oh Dean, Dean, yes, God, yes...' "

Paris glared at him angrily but could not suppress a smile for long. "Dickhead," she said and laughed, blushing.

Dean joined her under the water and they were soon locked in a searing kiss, hands roaming all over each other till he picked her up and thrust up into her against the shower wall, only stopping as orgasms ripped through both of them.

"Can we go out today?" Paris asked him later as they sat in the kitchen.

"I don't do dates either," he drawled in reply.

"Who said anything about a date? I just want to get out of this house for a bit, go shopping or out to a bar or something later," Paris assured him.

"OK, if you make the shopping quick, then we can go to a bar. I'm not following you around the fucking shops all day like some lapdog boyfriend. I can't leave you on your own remember!"

"Roman and Seth took me shopping..." she protested.

"Yeah, like I said, lapdogs who pander around women!" he snapped.

"Don't be mean to them," Paris protested. "If it wasn't for them I'd have gone crazy in here. Especially with your attitude."

"I'm not like Roman and Seth. If you don't like it then you know what to do," he said evenly.

"Stop being all grumpy," she pleaded, reaching out for him and settling herself on his lap. "Stop being grumpy and kiss me."

Dean rolled his eyes but complied, kissing her lightly on the lips, running his fingers through her hair and deepening the kiss with his tongue.

"Come on then," he said, breaking away and setting her on her feet. "Go get ready before I have to fuck you again."

It was another hot day so Paris dressed casually, daisy dukes, flip flops and a white crop top showing off brown tanned arms and midriff. Assuming they would be walking into town as the boys had the SUV, she followed him out the door and turned to him surprised when he walked round the back of the villa instead of toward the gates.

"Hey, where are you going?" she queried.

"Just hold on a moment," he answered, before disappearing. For a few minutes she heard nothing, then came the sound of a metallic door being opened and the roar of a powerful engine. Dean then appeared astride the biggest and shiniest motorbike she had ever seen.

"Well, what are you waiting for, jump on," he said, handing her a helmet. "Ever ridden one of these before?" he added, seeing her apprehension.

She shook her head.

"Hold on tight around my waist, you'll be fine, I promise."

Swinging her leg over and settling in behind Dean, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, feeling his solid, muscular frame. He revved the engine hard and pulled away through the gates. He took it slowly at first but soon any nervousness melted into excitement as her body swayed with his and the bike's movements and she laughed with sheer joy.

"You wanna go for a proper ride?" he shouted after five or so minutes wanting to show off.

"Yes," she shouted back.

Dean accelerated hard, pushing the bike to speed up as they turned away from the town towards the desert along the freeway. Paris was thrilled at the speed and danger, the feel of his body and the power he welded not only over this bike but more so herself. He was a dangerous, unpredictable man with issues she might not be able to understand but she was becoming hooked on him, he was nothing like anyone she had ever met. He had saved her life and it seemed, was about to steal her heart.

They drove off the hard road after thirty exciting minutes or so and headed on to a track which led into the desert, dust rising from the wheels as they climbed up and up a winding way till they reached the summit of a bed of rocks. Dean killed the engine and helped her off the bike.

"Enjoy that?" he asked, lifting off her helmet, his eyes a glittering blue in the hot sun.

"It was amazing, so much fun," Paris gushed, looking out at the view. "It's so beautiful out here, beautiful but..."

"Desolate," he finished for her. "Yep, I come out here to think sometimes, to get away from it all. There's no one here for miles around, no one to bother you, just nothing. You like it?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, sitting down on a rock and hugging her knees.

He shrugged off his leather jacket, revealing his wife beater covered chest and lit a cigarette.

"Want one?" he offered.

Shaking her head no, he smirked. "Good girl aren't you?"

Paris just shrugged.

"Yep, you are. What's a sweet girl like you doing on the back of a motorbike with someone like me, hmmm? he asked in a mocking way.

"Well I could say the same for you," she countered.

"Oh yeah, what do you mean?" he asked intrigued.

"The last time I looked in the mirror I wasn't a petite, blonde slut with fake boobs and low morals!" Paris batted her lashes at him.

"Ha, got me, touché." Dean chuckled, taking a final drag and flicking the butt into the wilderness. Leaning back against a rock face, he curled his index finger towards her. "Come here," he told her. It wasn't a request.

Paris complied and in a second stood before him. He surveyed her lazily, his eyes roaming up and down her body. "You look fucking hot," he said and pulled her into his lap, stroking her thighs so that she was straddling him. She felt faint with longing, breathing in the scent of him. Hot skin, leather, cologne, mint and faint cigarette. He said nothing more but his eyes bore into her as he slowly fingered the fraying denim of her shorts, skimming her butt. Goosebumps appeared on her skin under his well practised touch and Paris shook under those magic hands and blue eyed gaze, throwing her head back with a gasp as his fingers slid deeper, his knuckles skimming her centre. Kissing each other gently, Paris could not hold herself back as those fingers entered her deeply just as his tongue claimed her mouth. She moaned against his lips and felt him grin as she came shuddering under his hands.

"Did that feel good baby?" he crooned.

"Mmmmm," was all she could muster while laying panting on his chest.

"Not so much of a good girl now are you?" he chuckled.

Her head snapped up with a puzzled look on her blushing face.

"Getting fingered out in the open," he drawled.

"You are obviously rubbing off on me," Paris narrowed her eyes and responded.

"Ha, you've got a smart mouth when you need to. I like it. Let's head back and get a drink OK?" he told her.

"Don't you want me to, you know? she asked while laying a hand against his erection, feeling the impressive hardness restrained under his jeans.

"Can't get enough of me?" he laughed. "Nah, that was all for you, besides I've got plans for your body later sugar."

They rode back, Paris making the most of being able to hug his body tightly, found the ride back just as exciting as before. Parking the bike up, Dean took them to a low key bar off the Strip. It was nothing like the flashy club they had gone to a few nights before. You might call the bar a dive but it was the sort of place that the tourists would probably not stumble across and was almost entirely populated with locals. A couple of regulars nodded at Dean and the bartender immediately slid over two bottles of beer as Dean raised his hand in greeting. Both thirstily necked the bottles and Dean called for two more.

"Wanna shoot some pool?" he asked looking over at a blue covered table.

"Sure," she answered and followed him over to the far corner of the bar.

"I'll take it easy on you," he smirked while setting up the balls.

"Such a gentleman," Paris said laughing.

"After you," Dean told her, motioning for her to break.

Paris took a cue, chalked it and bent over the table provocatively before slamming the cue into the white ball which broke up the pack of red and yellow balls, scattering them all over the table. None were potted so Dean moved around to where the white ball lay and lined up his shot. Paris moved innocently into his eyesight putting him off slightly but he still potted the ball he was after, and the next and the next until he fluffed his last shot as Paris leant against the table so that her slim brown thigh distracted him.

"Are you trying to hustle me baby by putting me off?" he asked picking up his beer.

"What? Little old me...no way," she replied but there was an amused sparkle in her eyes.

Dean lit a cigarette as she bent over once again, this time with her ass right in his eye line. Her shot struck good and true and her target ball flew into its intended pocket.

"Ha," she laughed delightedly.

"Beginners luck," Dean drawled.

He had to revise that opinion when Paris quickly and expertly potted the next four balls with shots of increasing difficulty. Dean's cigarette hung off his bottom lip as he watched her in amazement while Paris winked at him cheekily.

"Ok, Ok," he said. "So you are a hustler. Where did you learn to play like that?"

"Misspent youth. Only girl amongst three brothers. We had a table in the garage, I didn't like dolls..." she explained.

"Fair enough," Dean said. He didn't really want to get into family history so changed the subject. "Let's get something to eat after this game." Paris nodded sensing his change of mood.

They hit a burger joint before heading back to the villa. It was early evening and the sun was still warm as they sat out by the pool with drinks. Paris dipped her toes in the water as she sipped her beer content to watch the occasional peach drop in to the pool with a gentle splash from a tree over the other side. Crickets sung in the bushes and birds twitted their evening song. Dean seemed to have recovered his spirits and they were chatting easily. As the sun went down Paris started to wonder about what form his plans for her body would take that night.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked softly as if reading her mind.

Deciding to be totally honest with him she replied "About what you are going to do to me tonight."

He set his drink down and stood up, offering his hand to her. Paris took it and he pulled her towards him then lifted her into his arms.

"Let's find out shall we..." he whispered, kissing her chastely kiss on her lips and carried her into the villa towards his bedroom.

"Thanks for a great date today," Paris said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

"You're so going to get it now honey for that comment," he promised, but his lips curled into a smile as he said it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi, hope you at all ok and so so sorry for the long gap between updates. As always your reviews are very welcome as it lets me know if you a, like the story and b, if it's worth writing more of it. How cool was it to see Dean with the WWE title during his recent push. One day it will be his alone! Xxx**

"Yo Ambrose! Paris! We're back," Roman's voice boomed through the villa.

Paris stirred, groggily opening her eyes then looked next to her at a sleeping Dean Ambrose. She shook him gently. "Dean, the guys are back."

"Huh?" he mumbled sleepily.

"I said Roman and Seth are back."

"Mmmm, so what? I'll see them later," he groaned.

Paris flung the duvet off her and made to get up but a strong arm reached out and pulled her back into bed.

"Nah uh, come back here. We'll get up soon," he promised while moulding his body into hers tightly.

Paris gasped as she felt something hard and smooth rubbing in between the back of her thighs.

"Well, if you put it like that," she purred. Dean just chuckled softly and kissed her neck.

Roman had enjoyed the break, he missed his girlfriend and kid while he was training and fighting so it was a welcome respite when the opportunity arose to have a couple of days off. Coming from a long line of successful fighters, he felt destined for greatness but still worked hard at what he did and never took success for granted. His royal Samoan family was large and supportive and as a result he was very much family orientated.

Seth on the other hand was a total fitness freak, completely focussed on being the best at his chosen career. His days off had still consisted of training just as hard but interspersed seeing some friends and sleeping with the odd beautiful girl or two which he had lined up on his phone. Seth wasn't as blatant as Dean when it came to women and was also much more respectful. In fact the three boys were as alike as apples, oranges and bananas, but as a unit they clicked, each bringing a different strength to the table when it came to a fight. Roman was a powerhouse, big, tough, strong and intimidating. Seth was as agile as they come and knew exactly what each of them needed to do and where they should be in a fight, a true ring general. Dean was a brawler, a streetfighter who didn't care if he got hurt in the process whether they won or not. He was gritty and mean in the ring which mirrored his upbringing in life.

"Do you think that Dean and Paris hooked up finally?" Roman asked Seth a while later as there was still no sign of them or Dean's bedroom door opening.

"Dunno," shrugged Seth. "But if he hurts her, I'll kill him."

Roman laughed. "Got a soft spot for her huh? Yeah, me too. Go and see if she is in her room will you?"

Seth returned smirking. "Yep, I can safely say that her bed has not been slept in. Soo..."

"Man, Ambrose is a fucker," Roman smiled shaking his head.

"Told you he was crazy about her, didn't I?" Seth agreed.

"He's always been crazy bro."

Seth smiled, "Yeah I know but..." Seth stopped talking as Dean, with a sheepish looking Paris entered the kitchen.

"Who's crazy?" Dean asked loudly, fist bumping each of them, well aware and amused that his two friends had been talking about him.

"You two been OK? Get up to anything?" Roman asked, making mischief.

Dean just smirked. Paris meanwhile started babbling "Dean took me out on his bike and we played pool and swam a lot."

"Yeah, I gave Paris a good hard ride... out to the desert. Didn't I babe?" Dean told them with a totally straight face.

Paris blushed and didn't answer but playfully punched Dean in the arm. "Ouch," he exclaimed feigning injury.

Roman and Seth exchanged a look. Dean wasn't normally so relaxed around a girl. In fact neither could recall seeing him like this before. Things had moved on it seemed.

"So, you ready to start training?" Dean asked them, both nodding in approval.

"So ready man," Seth said. "I can't wait to get going." Bouncing up and down and throwing his fists like Rocky Balboa.

"Let's do it then," Roman agreed. "What are you up to today babygirl?" he added to Paris.

"Come and watch us in the gym," Seth exclaimed before she had time to answer.

"Yeah," Dean drawled. "And I think you could do with a lesson in self defence Paris. You guys up for it."

"Sure," Roman agreed. "After all, we don't want our girl to get into any more scrapes in bars after we destroy Evolution do we?"

Paris, who just wanted to grab a shower and lounge by the pool, thought differently. "No, it's fine guys, really. I've got stuff to do." Dean wrapped his arms around her as she tried to walk off, kissing her on the neck, much to the surprise of the boys.

"I insist babe," he whispered into her ear. "I need to make sure you can take care of yourself in case I'm not around."

"You mean if you lose the fight with Evolution and you have to give me over to them?" she asked, understanding his meaning.

"That's not going to happen though, is it boys?" Dean exclaimed confidently.

Both looked serious but agreed. "Look Paris, there's no way we are going to lose, we promise, but Dean's got a point." Roman said.

How strange it seemed to Paris that in these few tumultuous days her life had changed so much, she had been having so much fun with Dean that she had almost forgotten the danger she was in. It was more than easy to feel safe when these three super confident, strong men were looking after her interests.

"Oh, OK then. Of course. I'll meet you in there. Just going to get changed," said Paris.

The gym was tucked away at the side of the villa near the pool. It was clean and spacious with mirrors, weights, running machines and also Crossfit inspired ropes, hoops and boxing equipment, no doubt from Seth's influence.

"So man, see you got there before me with Paris," Seth told Dean while he watched him strapping up his shoulder up with tape to protect it from the workout.

Looking up puzzled at his friend Dean responded, "Seriously? I know you like her but not in that way?"

"I could have done, that's all I'm saying," Seth pouted.

Roman who was bench pressing an enormous weight added "Seth, she doesn't look at you the way she looks at Dean."

"Does she really look at me like that?" Dean exclaimed rolling his shoulder to warm it up and looking very pleased at his friend's assessment. "See Roman knows, he understands women and all that shit."

Seth looked nonplussed.

"You gonna try to take her off me?" Dean wanted to know.

"I just might," Seth said staring his friend down. "You treat all your women like crap. I won't let that happen to her."

Dean stood up so they were face to face. "I dare you to try, brother," he spat.

"What? Suddenly you give a fuck about her? Last week you couldn't stand the sight of her!"

"Gentleman, gentlemen," Roman scolded whilst getting in between them before things got out of hand. "We seriously need to be on the same page leading up to this fight. Seth, I'm sure Dean is going to be good to Paris and Dean, Seth just cares about the girl, OK? No need to fall out over this."

"Hey, is everything alright?" Paris enquired hesitantly as she entered the room and saw the scene before her.

"Everything is good," Roman reassured her. Seth gave Dean a look and turned away to start on some weights.

"Oh your poor shoulder," cooed Paris at Dean. "Does it hurt very much?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Nah, it's nothing. Come here." He gave her a long slow kiss in full view of Seth who just attacked his weights with more relish. What was surprising to Paris was that just a day or so ago, Dean was actively restraining himself around her and now he was all over her and in front of the guys too.

"Warm up," said Dean patting her on the bum and started to do some stretches.

"Er warm up for what?

"For your lesson in learning how to kick butt," Roman told her.

The three men settled down to whatever fitness routines they were doing while Paris unenthusiastically jogged on a treadmill. Working out was not her thing. She swam, rode horses and went dancing in clubs with her friends usually and that kept her figure in check but gyms err boring! However, the view from her running machine made up for it. Three gorgeous fit men working their bodies hard just a few feet away from her.

After 30 minutes or so Dean motioned for her to follow him. A door at the other side of the gym that she hadn't noticed before led in to a larger room dominated by a full size wrestling or boxing ring. Posters of fights long gone adorned the white walls, black metal chairs, Japanese kendo sticks, ladders and flimsy looking fold up tables were stacked neatly in a corner. What they were used for she could not imagine! The room itself was flooded with natural light from a large lantern style glass window above the ring.

Dean jumped up on to the apron and sat sideways on the middle rope creating a space for her to step in to. He had a wicked glint in his eyes as he watched her bend past him then stood up so they were facing each other. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders while he stared at her intently. Paris quailed slightly.

"So Paris, attack me," he told her.

"Oh come on, I've got no chance against you. This is stupid," Paris replied.

"Just give it a go, I'll take it easy on you, come on," he assured her.

Paris stepped forward and pushed him in the chest with a grunt of effort. He barely moved and just raised his eyebrows at her.

"Is that the best you can do?" he smirked.

Feeling mad, she backed up and ran at him, this time managing to catch him off guard so he stepped back a pace or two.

"That's better," Roman's voice sang out from the doorway where he and Seth were watching from. They strutted round the ring and leant elbows on the apron and continued to watch. Seth then jumped into the ring.

"Teach her how to take you down," he told Dean, who looked pissed off at the intrusion. "Here, Paris. I'll show you," Seth said and took her by the shoulders, his chocolate brown eyes kind and penetrating. "I'll do it to you first OK."

Before she had time to even nod, Seth had brought his leg behind one of her knees and she found herself flat on her back with Seth's taut body hovering over her smiling. "See, it's easy!" he exclaimed, getting up and offering her a hand up.

"Now you try it on me," Seth told her. He let her perform the move on him but she clumsily ended up tripping over and lay sprawled on top of him. Dean growled audibly as Seth wrapped his arms around her chuckling. "Got you baby."

"This is all well and good," Roman said. "But your best bet is to take an attacker by surprise. Attack is the best firm of self defence so if I were you Paris, if anyone gives you any trouble just punch them hard in the mouth or the balls before they know what's hit them, then run."

"Er Seth," Dean grunted his eyes narrowed and pissed. "Any chance I have have my girl back?"

"Of course bro," Seth replied extricating himself from Paris and setting her on her feet.

Seth started running the ropes while Dean just stood and scowled at him.

"Is the lesson over and can I go for a swim now?" Paris asked.

"Sure honey," Dean replied, his gaze still on Seth.

"What's up with him?" she mouthed to Roman as she walked past the gorgeous Samoan.

"Dunno, but I'll race you to the pool," Roman told her, feeling that trouble was brewing and wanting to get her out of the way. The boys needed to sort things out and he wondered what Seth's motivation really was. Maybe he really did like her that way.

Watching the two figures depart for the pool, Seth leant back on the ropes and saw Dean still staring him down.

"What?!" he exclaimed raising both hands in the air.

Dean said nothing but looked dangerous, balling his fists up, clenching and unclenching menacingly. Seth walked up to him so they were just a foot away from each other.

"Got a problem bro!?" Seth tried again, not in the least bit intimidated by his friend.

Still Dean just stared him down.

"Well I guess not then," Seth told him and moved to get out of the ring.

Dean shoulder barged him with force causing Seth to turn and laugh in his face.

"Oh oh, it's like that is it," Seth cried and pushed Dean in the chest.

"Yep it is like that motherfucker," Dean snarled and pushed him back.

"Wanna settle this in the ring?" Seth asked.

"Like I said, Yep," Dean responded and swung a hard fist at his friend. It missed as Seth jumped back, leapt in the air and floored Dean with a drop kick to the head.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, holding his jaw and simply flew at Seth hitting him with a barrage of punches and chops to the chest, backing him in to the turnbuckle. They continued to beat the living daylights out of one another, neither getting the upper hand as they were so evenly matched and almost telepathically knew what their next move would be. Seth, although filled with adrenaline avoided his friend's injured shoulder even though Dean was trying to batter the shit out of him.

Seth threw Dean out of the ring, who landed against the pile of black chairs. He started to laugh as he picked himself slowly up, Seth started to laugh too until Dean picked up one of the steel chairs and brandished it fiercely.

"Now now bro, let's not get crazy," Seth appealed.

"I am fucking crazy. Remember, ninja boy!" Dean rasped. "You stay away from what belongs to me."

"Bring it on then Ambrose," Seth cried and readied himself for another assault. Dean rolled back in to the ring and charged at Seth whacking the chair on to his ribs then threw it to the ground. Seth writhed in pain then quickly grabbed the discarded chair himself and hit Dean in the leg with it. They both fell to the face first on then mat side by side, both spent, covered in sweat, bruises and cuts and breathing heavily, the fight having apparently come to a conclusion.

After a few minutes, Seth began to chuckle again and between panting he told him, "I'm not looking to take her away from you Dean. I just wanted to make sure you really cared about her and boy it worked. I really think you do."

Dean rubbed his hand over his face and turned over so he was laying on his back, "And I'm meant to be the crazy one! Jesus Seth, we could have fucking killed each other."

"I know man. Are we done here?" Seth laughed. "Or are we done?"

Dean caught hold of his friend's hand in salute. "It's all good bro, thanks for not fucking my shoulder up."

"No problem," Seth replied.

"You know what?" Dean contemplated. "She does something to me. I mean, I fought it and fought it, not wanting to get close to her but...it's like when I met you guys you know. I'd been on my own for so long, not trusting anyone then I had to work in a team and suddenly there were two people who had my back, who I could finally trust and I... I just decided at that moment that you were both like family. With her I forced myself to keep my distance then I just couldn't help myself. I had to have her and now I've made the decision, it feels right, you know?"

Seth just nodded not wanting to push his friend further, knowing that Dean didn't usually unbutton like this. "Come on dude. You've made the right choice. Now all we have to do is beat Evolution."


	12. Chapter 12

**Two chapters today dear readers. As always review appreciated. X**

Paris was messing around in the water with Roman when they spotted Dean and Seth walking out from the gym, laughing but looking a little worse for wear. Roman smirked knowingly and shook his head as Paris stared open mouthed as the two sweat covered Adonis's took a shower by the side of the pool. Dean ripping his shoulder straps off and flinging them on the floor.

"What have they been up to?" she asked Roman.

"Sorting things out I guess baby girl," he answered in that deep smooth voice of his.

"Does sorting things out usually involve cuts and bruises?" said Paris looking puzzled at her man and his friend.

"It does in our world honey," Roman replied chuckling and grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around making her squeal.

"Hey er Roman," called Dean, "do I have to whoop your ass too. Hands off my property!"

"Seriously, you were never even close to whooping my ass Deano!" Seth exclaimed.

Dean just grinned at him.

"Make my day Ambrose," Roman challenged.

Seth rolled his eyes but Dean was laughing, clearly joking as they dived into the water. Roman let go of Paris and charged playfully towards Dean and soon all three were in a ducking battle, messing around like little boys. Paris watched with amusement as they let their hair down and burnt off energy. She climbed up onto a floating sun bed and relaxed at the other side of the pool, closing her eyes. After a while the noise from the boys subsided and it all went quiet. Paris sensing the silence peered around to see where they had gone. Suddenly she screamed as her sun bed was pulled from underneath her and Dean's strong arms ducked her under the water. Coughing and spluttering she rose to the surface as the three boys laughed at the sight of her.

"You bastards," she shouted, rubbing the water out of her face, her eyelashes like starfish and splashing them as hard as she could. Dean soon kissed any anger she had out of her system then she watched exasperated as the boys raced to the end of the pool and back. Seth was much the quickest shouting "losers" to the others. The rest of the morning was spent in this happy way till the boys' stomachs decided it was time for food.

"I'm going into the Strip later, wanna come?" Seth asked Paris over lunch.

"I'd love to thanks, that is, if its ok with you Dean?" she asked, thinking that perhaps he might have plans.

"What for, shopping?" he asked as she and Seth nodded, "Go ahead. Rather you than me Seth."

Paris wanted to get the boys something. What, she had no idea but hopefully she'd see something when out with Seth. Something they could have or wear in the fight with Evolution, like a good luck charm maybe.

It was nice to be out with Seth, they both really liked each other and were at ease in their company. You know, the sort of friendship where silences are not uncomfortable. He took the SUV and parked up near a mall that had athletic gear and a fight equipment and clothing shop.

"Anything you need babe?" he asked.

"Nah, not really. Just good to be out," she replied.

They entered the fight shop and Seth was immediately accosted by the owner in hero worship greeting thus allowing Paris to browse unnoticed. She weaved amongst the clothing and training shoes, picking up a headband here and a yoga top there. Several posters caught her eye that adorned the shop walls, one with three very familiar faces staring her down. Dean looking particularly menacing and dangerous. Her stomach flipped with excitement at the sight of it, realising once again just what sort of a man she was with. Another poster had her tormentor, Randy Orton, oiled up and posing arrogantly with his arms aloft. She shuddered at that one. Piles of flyers were placed around the shop advertising the approaching Shield v Evolution fight. She picked one up and put it in her purse.

It was then that she saw what she was looking for, hanging up next to the baseball hats and Lucha wrestling gear. 'Perfect,' she thought reaching up and grabbing three black and white skull masks off their hook. 'The boys will look more intimidating, even frightening in these.'

Seth had managed to extricate himself from the owner and was trying on some Nikes while Paris took her purchases to the till. "Robbing a bank?" quipped the shop assistant while bagging the unusual items that Paris had bought.

"Something like that," Paris smiled sweetly.

Seth paid for his things. "You ready sweetheart? What did you get?"

"Just some yoga stuff," she lied wanting to keep her presents as a surprise.

"Wanna get a coffee?" Seth asked.

"Love to thanks," she replied following him out of the shop.

They bought frappe-chinos and sat down on an outside table and chatted while people watching.

"So Ambrose finally made a move eh?" Seth asked getting straight to the point.

Paris blushed. "Yes, well he took a bit of persuading. He was pretty mean to me you know at first. I almost wondered why I liked him that much."

Seth nodded, he had seen many women throw themselves at Dean and understood where she was coming from.

"I know, I know. Ambrose has certainly got an allure. Some girls like a bad boy, don't they?" he winked.

"Well yeah I guess so."

"Seriously though Paris. I said to Roman the other day, I've never seen Dean like this with a girl. I really think he likes you. I mean I know he likes you but I think he has some genuine feelings for you. That's something pretty special for a guy like him. He had a rough upbringing you know. He doesn't talk much about it but it why he is like he is. I don't think he trusted anyone till he met me and Roman."

"I wondered about that Seth. He was so hostile to me, I thought he hated me."

"He probably thought he did at first. It's easier for him to hate people than show his true feelings. I think you will do him a lot of good."

"You're a really sweet guy you know that," Paris told him.

"Yeah, I know," he laughed. "Come on. Let's get back. Dean will be missing you I'm sure."

The rest of the week passed in much the same way. Paris practically moved into Dean's room who was like a different person now their relationship was out in the open and had made his decision to be with her. He just as attentive and was less and less snarky with her. All four lived and trained together in easy companionship. In the evenings they watched movies or taught her play video games which she became surprisingly good at. And then there was Dean. They were always sloping off to bed or anywhere else for that matter much to the amused annoyance of Roman and Seth who had eventually gotten used to walking in on them finding the pair making out round every corner of the villa. Paris didn't want her time with them to end.

Saturday came though which was a week before the fight and the boys were noticeably more focussed. Their bodies were hyped up to a near peak of physical fitness ready to be unleashed with what she hoped to be devastating effect. On entering the gym that morning she found all three post work out in a huddle talking seriously. They looked up and for the first time in days she felt awkward, like she'd interrupted something that didn't involve her.

She backed away but Dean called out, "Come here sweetheart, we need to talk."

"What's up?" she asked slightly alarmed.

"We've got attend a fight tonight to promote next week," explained Roman. "Could get messy as we need to make an impact. Evolution is likely to be there tonight..."

"We need to set an intention," Seth added.

Paris didn't really get it. "Could one of you just explain what you mean in plain English?"

"We mean babe," Dean drawled. "That we go to this fight tonight, beat the crap out of someone and likely confront Evolution so that they understand what they are up against next week. Get the fans riled up too."

"So Randy will be there..." she realised.

"Yep and we can't leave you here so you will have to come with us."

"But you won't leave me alone there will you, will I be safe?" she queried.

"Well that's what we need to work out," Roman pondered. "One of us would have be with you at all times and that makes us vulnerable."

They all went quiet.

"Unless we took her with us into the ring?" Dean growled.

Seth and Roman knew what that would mean. She'd have to be involved and they had to behave in a very different way when on show so to speak.

"I dunno man, it's risky and it would make it very very public," Seth announced.

"If that's what keeps her safe, then I say we do it," Dean insisted.

"What do you say Paris?" Roman asked as three pairs of eyes rested on her.

Paris had no hesitation, "I trust you all so of course I'll do whatever you think is right."


	13. Chapter 13

"Hold the camera close baby," Dean snarled as he, Seth and Roman, dressed in full Shield gear stared menacingly into the iPhone which Paris held aloft in a darkened corner of the villa just before they set out for fight night.

Promo Dean

"You're getting old and greedy, you're getting complacent, lazy even! While the Shield are young, hungry and coming for you Evolution. You still think you're the top dogs? You think you can hang with the Hounds of Justice!? We don't think so. Triple H, Batista and Raaandy Orton, the Shield are coming for you next Saturday. Bring tables, bring ladders, bring chairs. Bring anything you like 'cause the Shield bring the sword."

Promo Seth

"You are gonna learn what everyone in the business has learnt in the past two years. The Shield are the new power and we are gonna take you down hard and fast."

Promo Roman

"Gentlemen you ain't gonna know what hits you next Saturday. Believe that!"

Promo Dean

"Oh and Randy, remember we've still got what we took from you."

Promo Roman

"Believe in the Shield!"

Ends

Paris took a deep breath and handed the phone to Seth who quickly uploaded it to You Tube. It was crazy to her how those outfits and their fight demeanour made her friends, yes she did consider them friends and protectors and obviously one of them was now more than a friend, intimidating, frightening even. All afternoon the atmosphere in the house was tense and one could sense an aggressive energy floating around. The guys were quiet, Dean was distant and Paris sensibly kept out of the way until Seth asked her to film their promo. She gulped when they appeared before her in full ring gear, only having seen videos of them. The promo was electrifying to watch in the flesh, goosebumps rose up on her arms.

She wore a black figure fitting dress, not too short with heels which she could actually run in. She thought that would be sensible given the circumstances. Dean appraised her outfit with a curt nod of his head, then kissed her chastely on the lips for the first time since that morning. But his demeanour was different, his eyes were somewhere else, where she knew not. He looked more like the Dean who hated her those first few days since her rescue.

"Time to go," muttered Roman.

Seth took her aside before they they jumped in to the SUV. "Paris," he said quietly, "Whatever happens tonight. Just go with it OK. Trust us."

Paris nodded in reply but felt uneasy as Dean took the front seat next to Roman leaving Seth to jump in the back with her. He always travelled in the back with her, no matter what. Seth gave her a tight reassuring smile but even he was acting different.

The venue for the fight night was an old disused arena in an unfashionable part of town but crowds thronged around it as they drove slowly round the back. Phone cameras flashed as some fans realised who was inside the big black car. They were let through the barrier into the car park and away from the fans, some of whom milled about behind the wire fence hoping for photo opportunities and autographs. However they would get no joy from the Shield, not when they were so focussed on the evening ahead.

Unfurling their large bodies from the car, Seth held out a black leather gloved hand and helped Paris out. Dean glanced at her briefly but his stare was cold sending chills of confusion running down her spine. He looked totally pissed off and badass. Roman was just the same, he was very intimidating and Seth suddenly looked mean, like he'd curb stomp his own grandmother.

"Let's bust some heads," Dean snarled and they all moved off into the grimy arena. Paris was kept in the middle of the boys by Dean's strong hand gripping her upper arm and bowling her along with them. Various characters greeted them on their way in, other fighters, men in suits, rigging crew, all staring at Paris with interest having heard the rumours about why she was here with the Shield.

A voice cried out "Roman!" and two large handsome twin Samoans, dressed in bright orange ring gear rambunctiously greeted him with hugs and fist bumps.

"What's happening cousin?" the other twin declared.

"Keep you fucking head down," Dean whispered to Paris, the possessive grip on her arm not lessening.

Roman's hard stare disappeared for a few minutes as he talked to his cousins, Jimmy and Jey Uso. Dean and Seth stood guard with Paris.

"What's with the girl bro?" Jimmy asked looking at Dean.

"That's Shield business," he replied curtly.

"Ok Ambrose," Jimmy replied holding his hands up in appeasement. "We just heard that Randy Orton might be a little pissed with you guys over something... or somebody..."

"That's none of your concern," Seth added.

Roman didn't like the way this was going. "Like Dean said Jimmy, it's Shield business. I'll catch you both later," and with that he patted his inquisitive cousin on the shoulder and the three men swaggered off with Paris to a locker room.

Paris sat down on a bench away from the boys, rubbing her arm discreetly where Dean's vice like grip had been. A knock at the door announced the arrival of a guy in a headset who talked in a low voice to them about who their opponents would be that night. Dean was slowly taping up his hands in readiness for battle and Paris was mesmerised by the sight. Just the methodical motion of wrapping them up in white gauze to inflict chaos caused her to feel hot for some reason. He was all man, all alpha male and all hers. Although at the moment his behaviour towards her was an aggressive coldness that she could not understand.

After a while they motioned for her to follow them out of the locker room, up in a lift to the walkways which surrounded the top half of the arena. Here in the empty corridor, hearing the crowd cheering below they warmed up and stretched their bodies, running for short bursts and doing fingertip press ups. A crew guy approached and told them they had three minutes so they ushered Paris to a set of double doors and waited. No one spoke, the atmosphere was tense then Seth whispered in to her ear, he really was the Architect of the group.

"Do exactly as we say, stay where we put you, do not smile, do not speak unless one of us asks you a question, do not interact with the commentators, fans or other fighters. Just go with whatever we say, if someone tries to take you, just try to defend yourself and one of us will save you, OK."

"OK," she whispered back, now feeling pretty frightened. Dean still looked at her coldly as if she was nothing to him and Roman just appeared to look straight through her. Her unease grew.

A blast of music hit, 'Sierra. Hotel. Indigo. Echo. Lima. Delta. SHIELD', the doors opened and they stepped down into a deafening cauldron of noise. Walking down the arena steps, fans close on either side, touching and back slapping the boys, some cheering, some jeering and holding up homemade signs. Head down as instructed, she found herself at the bottom of the stairs and Roman lifted her over the barrier. Dean roughly grabbed her by the arm again and practically dragged her over to the timekeeper's area.

"Sit there," he rasped at her loudly like she was a dog. Paris, feeling very overwhelmed fought back tears. The audience looked on with interest at this turn of events and started speculating who she was. The commentators seated not two yards away beckoned her over to speak but Dean soon put a stop to that by grabbing one of them by his suit lapels and telling him to mind his own business or words to that effect.

He climbed in the ring to join Seth and Roman and their opponents soon came out. Some random stooges for Evolution. The match started and Paris saw all three visibly relax as they dominated the three man tag team they were fighting. It didn't take long for the Shield to despatch them leaving one running off back stage, one writhing outside the ring in apparent agony and one semi unconscious in the middle of the ring. Roman and Seth stalked a circle around the stricken guy and Dean whose blood was up demanded a microphone.

"Is that the best you can do Evolution?" he shouted. "Did you really think that you could just send anyone out here to fight us? Did you really think that your pathetic excuse for a tag team could do us some damage tonight? Well, we are not done yet."

Dean placed the microphone down with an evil look on his face. Roman called for the triple powerbomb as their victim tried desperately to scramble out of the ring on his hands and knees but it was too late. Seth and Dean picked him up, placed him on Roman's shoulders and they devastatingly powerbombed him into the canvas, knocking him clean out.

In the flesh, their treatment was terrifying to Paris, the noises of the fight were so loud, the crack of fist on body, the groans of pain, the sweat and blood sickening. The crowd had gone mad though, high on bloodlust, chanting "Let's go Shield!". Dean kicked the unconscious guy out of the ring like he was a piece of rubbish and picked the mic back up. Once again Paris realised that her man was brutal and briefly wondered what sort of person he would be if he wasn't a professional fighter. Jail, most probably.

"So Evolution," he mocked. "We'd be delighted if you'd indulge us with your presence... if not we'd have to assume you are too cowardly to face us tonight..."

Paris was just thinking that Dean was indeed very good on the microphone when some music blasted out and from her vantage point she saw a huge man in a smart grey suit walk slowly out from behind the big screen at the other side of the arena. He was followed by a brooding heavily muscled man covered in tattoos clad just in shorts, Triple H and Batista she assumed. Behind them to her absolute horror stalked Randy Orton. He wore a pair of tight wrestling shorts and a confident smirk but nothing else. She heard some girls screaming at him like he was some sort of rock star, if only they knew, she thought wryly. The music stopped and Triple H spoke from the top of the ramp, the other two standing on either side of him doing their best to look intimidating.

"Gentlemen," he called out. "Very impressive display tonight, hope you haven't tired yourselves out before next week? Thing is, I don't like you mouthing off so much. I've seen your latest You Tube video and it's not entirely complementary..."

The Shield laughed at his words. "It ain't meant to be Hunter," Seth told him taking the mic off Dean, "but if you'd like to come down to this ring with your two little lapdogs to discuss it..."

"We'd be happy to oblige. Believe that!" finished Roman.

Evolution looked at each other and Triple H shook his head and passed the mic to Randy.

"Hey, Dean," he growled deeply. "I see you are still looking after my little bitch until next week."

Paris froze and Roman jumped down from the ring and pulled her out of her seat, bringing her back to stand in the ring with Dean and Seth.

Dean chuckled darkly and gripped Paris' upper arm to drag her in front of him, "Randy, Randy, I don't know what you are getting so upset about. Whores like this are two a penny."

Paris gasped, not believing her ears, how could he say such a thing and his grip was hurting again. She was semi aware of Seth shooting her a warning look so she kept quiet and bit her lip.

"Like Seth said Randy, why don't you come down to the ring if you are that bothered?" Dean taunted.

"Fight, fight, fight," the crowd screamed.

But they were not be indulged tonight. There was too much at stake for Evolution who backed away slowly up the ramp and disappeared. The Shield's music blasted out in recognition of them winning this verbal battle and the boys posed in the middle of the ring with their trademark salute while Paris trembled with fear and anger at their side.

"Let's get out of here," Seth whispered and they quickly made their way back through the crowd and out of the arena ignoring anyone who tried to slow them down till they reached the SUV.

"Well that went well," Roman stated tying his hair up outside the car. "We usually shower here but we need to get you home safe just in case so apologies for sweaty boy smells on the way home," he smiled apparently back to his normal self.

But Paris was in another world and didn't respond. Roman nudged Seth who in turn prodded Dean who was just about to light a cigarette.

"Paris honey are you OK?" Dean asked, his bad boy persona from the past few hours gone.

She just looked at him fighting back the tears. Dean shrugged at his two teammates not sure what else to say.

"Let's just get out of here," Roman said. "Smoke in the damn car for once Dean if you need to."

They all climbed in. Dean taking the back seat again with Paris but she sat as far away from him as she could, clinging to the corner. It was like she was in some kind of shock. Dean went to pull her into his lap.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean raised his eyebrows and repeated in a low voice "Don't touch me? Baby, I'll do whatever I want to you. Understand?" Immediately returning to fight persona mode which just wound her up more.

"Understand this. Fuck off," she told him. Anger had made her brave, fighting fire with fire.

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Dean storming out of the car on arrival and Paris slamming into her room. In there she gave way to tears, heart wrenching, sobbing tears. How did she get herself into this situation? The way Dean, and in some respects Seth and Roman, treated her that evening was shocking, so much that she felt slightly afraid of them, then again the whole night was a frightening experience. The trust she had built up with the boys and especially Dean felt lost to her once more.

"What was all that about?" Roman asked Dean who was sitting by the pool in his ring gear smoking furiously on a cigarette. "She's shut herself in her room."

"No fucking idea bro. Paris just flipped out on me in the car. Doesn't she understand what we are trying to do here? I thought it went well. We wound the fuckers up, got some heat for next week and she came out unscathed."

Seth came out to join them. "I thought I explained how it would be to her," he said.

"Not clearly enough it seems," reflected Roman.

The life of an professional underground fighter is complicated. On the one hand it's all about training, fitness and fighting technique. On the other hand they have to be good actors, build a fight persona, whether that be a hero or a villain. But the Shield were more real than most of the other professional fighters as their real personalities were just ramped up to ten in the ring. That's why they were so loved, even when they were doing despicable things to their opponents. In the fans eyes the Shield was as real as you can get. Most of the fights and feuds are semi scripted but now and then, like this one with Evolution, they can get out of hand and become more real than any of the Shield imagined.

"I'll go talk to Paris," Seth decided.

"No damn it, I will," Dean told him, stubbing his cigarette out. "I need to make it right with her. I guess we scared her but she needs to know it was for her own good."

"Be gentle with her then," Seth warned knowing gentle was not generally in Ambrose's vocabulary.

Paris was packing her few meagre belongings, resolved on escaping even if it meant flying out to her folks across country and leaving her Vegas life behind. Orton would never find her, she decided. She was pretty sure she had memorised the correct code for the gates after carefully watching the boys enter it on a few occasions, so it was just a case of finding the right opportunity. Angry and scared, the best option seemed to be to run away and never see any of these people again, even Dean, though she felt her heart would break when she pictured him. She froze when there was rapping at the bolted bedroom door.

"Paris, open up. We need to talk," Dean's unmistakable rasp rang out as he knocked at the door again.

Silence.

"Don't push me Paris, open the door."

Silence.

Dean was getting frustrated now, he paced about the corridor then thought 'Fuck it.' His heavy booted foot connected with the door, smashing the bolt clean off and the two double doors flew open.

"What was was that noise?" Seth exclaimed from the kitchen where he and Roman were waiting.

"Oh shit, I think Ambrose has just kicked her door in." Roman replied snaking his head down the corridor to look.

"Is that his fucking idea of being gentle?!" Seth exclaimed. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt her right now."

Seth jumped up but Roman placed a hand on his chest. "He won't hurt her, he loves her. I know Dean and he might not know it himself yet but he won't hurt her. Not physically at least, emotionally someday maybe."

Paris meanwhile looked on in shock at the broken doors as Dean filled with adrenaline, stalked towards her, his eyes never leaving hers as he backed her up against the bathroom door, trapping her in with two hands either side of her shoulders. Her heart pounded with fear and desire awaiting his next move. She'd never be able to prevent him from whatever he was about to do, he was too strong, too fierce. She would be totally at his mercy if he so desired and did she actually want to stop him anyway? Her body was already yearning for him even if her mind tried to deny it. She could shout for Seth and Roman but they'd not come to her aid when he'd just kicked the door in, they were obviously all in this together. Then to her surprise, Dean closed his eyes as if in thought and stroked his still taped knuckles very softly against her cheek.

"Please Paris," he whispered. "Just listen to me. What happened tonight is not really real, I mean, it kinda is but then again it isn't. Seth tried to explain that to you didn't he?"

"He said to go along with whatever happened," she replied quietly.

"And thank God you did 'cause Evolution do not need to know that you and I are together, or that we have pool parties or movie nights or shopping trips with Seth..."

"You called me a whore in front of an arena full of people, you've bruised my arm and treated me like a piece of shit all day in front of total strangers. Not just you, Seth and Roman too. I'm just a pawn in your game with Evolution aren't I? You are just using me to get more money for this fight, more fame, more notoriety..." she interrupted.

"Baby, do you not understand what I am saying? If Randy Orton thought for one second that I or Roman or Seth had any feelings towards you at all, it would make things a hundred times worse for you. He has to believe what you have just cleverly worked out, that we are using you as leverage for the fight. Do you know how people see me, like my competitors and the fight fans? I'm a scumbag. The meanest, nastiest, son of bitch walking this planet. I show no mercy, no remorse. I'll beat the hell out of anyone who stands in my way and I certainly do not give a shit about women. I fuck them and discard them. You would not be able to comprehend the despicable things I have seen and done in my life. That's who Dean Ambrose of the Shield is and that's who I was being in real life too. Until... until I met you..."

He let that sink in, almost nervously watching for her reaction.

"I...I don't know what's real or what's fake," she told him, tears brimming in her eyes.

Dean softly brushed his lips on hers, "This is real Paris, you and me and once this fight is over I promise things will be different. I can't allow for you to be taken away from me. I'll fight to the death for you if I have to. Trust me. I've never asked anyone that before but please trust me."

Paris saw the truth in his eyes, nodded and kissed him passionately back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello all, Apologies to all the Randy Orton fans out there (I'm one too) but he makes a good villain! Please review, keeps me wanting to write more. x**

The day of the fight dawned. There was no more time for training, no more time to prepare, tonight was the night. All three men readied themselves in their own way, Roman was distracted, Seth worked out and Dean withdrew broodingly into himself. Paris now knew the score and tried to stay as calm as she could. The past week had been good, she boned up on the fight game and with Dean's encyclopaedic knowledge, was beginning to understand its history and nuances.

The boys were delighted with her gift of the skeleton masks. "These are epic," Seth exclaimed. "Just the thing to show we mean business. Thanks honey," and kissed her on the cheek.

Dusk fell and the boys had changed into their ring gear. It was nearly time to set out. Paris sat on her bed applying the final touches to her make up with a shaking hand. There was a soft knock at her door.

"Come in," she said.

Dean stood in the doorway, fully shielded up in his black tactical gear which always made him look aggressive but his face softened as he looked at her.

"Hey," he said sitting down next to her. He stroked a finger down her cheek. "You look real pretty." He paused. "I just wanted to you to know that it will be OK tonight, you know?"

Paris nodded.

"And since I have to act all nasty to you again this evening, I wanted to apologise in advance baby. Come here." He kissed her ever so gently on her trembling lips, his tongue flicking against hers in the most delicious way.

"Now," he said, cocking his head to one side and a badass expression returning to his beautiful face. "Let's do this."

...

At the arena...

"Sierra. Hotel. Indigo. Echo. Lima. Delta. SHIELD!" Their music hit and Paris was swept along down the stairs into the cauldron of noise. Following Roman and Seth, Dean held her tightly with a grim expression on his face, his other hand balled up in a fist which he held up to his chest fending off overzealous fans who wanted to touch him on the way down. All three looked totally menacing in the masks.

Depositing her in the same seat as last week, he swaggered over to the ring to join Seth and Roman who were showboating to the fans on the ropes. Bumping fists they turned towards the entrance ramp and awaited Evolution's arrival. Their music rang out and all three gigantic men slowly made their way down the ramp.

Triple H and Batista climbed into the squared circle but Randy Orton stalked around the outside of the ring. Dean's eyes followed him, knowing what he was up to. Orton stopped in front of Paris, leering down at her in all his oiled, muscular, tattooed glory.

"When I get my hands on you again tonight honey, I'm going to destroy you," he promised in a low voice.

"Fuck you," she mouthed back.

He chuckled at that, "I think you'll find that your the one who's getting fucked tonight bitch."

Dean couldn't hear what the Viper said to her but he wagered it wasn't pleasant. Seth placed a hand on his arm.

"Don't worry, I think she's got this," he muttered to Dean.

It seemed she had because Paris suddenly stood up and slapped Orton with all her might across his face much to the delight of the crowd. Rubbing his jaw, his face furious and realising he'd been shown up, he turned and joined his team in the ring, staring Dean down as he passed him who was smirking at the scene he had just witnessed.

The six men faced off in the ring while the scantily clad female announcer introduced both teams. Paris waited on tenterhooks for the match to start, her heart racing at the encounter with the vile Viper but proud of herself at the same time. Living with three fighters was starting to pay off.

The noise of the crowd was deafening as they chanted out their allegiances. "LET'S GO SHIELD!" "LET'S GO EVOLUTION!"

Neither faction seemed to know who should start the match off as they circled around the ring. The Shield trash talking their opponents whilst Evolution stared them down. Then Dean catapulted himself towards Orton catching him smack on the face with a right hook and all hell broke loose. Seth dealt with Triple H whilst Roman attacked Batista and soon three separate fights were taking place all over the arena. Dean and Orton took their battle over the barrier and in to the crowd, fighting in lumps for all to see. The two big men, Roman and Batista traded punches outside the ring whilst Seth fought Triple H inside it. The bell hadn't even rung yet!

Finally the referee got them under control and the fight started proper with Seth and Triple H battling it out. The younger man's athletic ability paying off as the wily veteran struggled to land any significant damage. Tag after tag was made, spectacular flying moves and kicking out after finishers were used was commonplace as each faction knew how much was at stake this night. Anyone who was watching agreed that this match would go down as one of the most brutal and compelling fights the business had witnessed. Tables, chairs and kendo stickers were used to full effect by both teams and the fight carried on for way longer than it's allotted time.

Dean was face down on the canvas, breathing heavily and obviously in extreme pain. His injured shoulder had been repeatedly targeted by the three opposing monsters. Randy Orton stood over him smirking, then lifted his arms aloft in his signature pose, showboating to the screaming audience, relishing the moment of defeating his nemesis. Paris felt sick. Seth was still lying at the top of the ramp where he had leapt off the summit of the tiantron screen and flattened all three members of Evolution earlier. Batista was lying near him still out for the count too. Roman was on his hands and knees outside the ring, having just been kicked and stamped on. Triple H lifted the apron and slowly pulled something out from under the ring. The reaction of the crowd told her that something was wrong. An audible quiet came over the arena as to Paris' horror, she realised that in his hands he held a sledgehammer.

At Triple H's signal, Orton picked Dean up, standing behind him wrenching his arms behind his back and lining him up for his boss. Dean's head hung low, too out of it to comprehend what was about to happen. As Triple H methodically approached, lifting the sledgehammer aloft ready to strike, an involuntary scream rang out from Paris' mouth and she flung herself out of her seat much to the crowd's interest.

"Please don't," she screamed, beating her fist on the white canvas of the ring. "Don't hurt him any more. Please..."

Dean's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. "Paris NO," he groaned realising that she had given her feelings away. Orton and Triple H looked at each other and smirked.

"Well, well," Orton mouthed in Dean's ear mockingly. "I knew something was up. I'm going to enjoy torturing her even more now I know she loves you Deano."

"Son of a bitch! I fucking kill you Orton if you touch one hair on her head," Dean rasped.

"You're in no position to kill anyone Ambrose and once we've finished with you and your little faction you'll never fight again, hell you might even not walk again once we are done. I'm sending you back the gutter where you belong," Orton chuckled.

Triple H was mere feet way now, Paris' pleadings were in vain so drastic action was required. Scrambling into the ring, she placed herself between Dean and the sledgehammer. The crowd screamed their approval as the mystery of the Shield's girl unraveled before their eyes.

"THIS IS AWSOME," they cried in unison.

"Out of my way woman," Triple H demanded.

"You'll have to hit me with that thing too first," she replied bravely.

"I don't hit women you stupid bitch," he replied.

"I fucking do though," Orton's voice chilled her to the bone and in an instant he had released Dean and shoved Paris forcibly out of the way, knocking the breath out of her as she landed against the ropes. The crowd went mad as chaos ensued, Triple H ran towards Dean, sledgehammer ready but suddenly like a raging bull, Roman charged the ring. SPEAR! Triple H was slammed in to the mat winded, his weapon flying out of his grip.

Dean saw the tides were turning in their favour and with superhuman effort elbowed Orton in the face and traded punches. Then to the amazement of the arena he leapt into the air grabbing Orton's neck and pulled him down sharply on to the mat using the RKO, knocking his enemy clean out with Orton's own finisher! Dean flung himself on top of the tattooed villain.

"ONE, TWO, THREE!" The referee and the crowd shouted.

The announcement rang out - "YOUR WINNERS. THE SHIELD!"

The scenes that followed were euphoric, Seth came running down to the ring to hug his brothers.

"We fucking did it, we fucking did it!" he cried leaping on top of both of them.

"It's over," Roman said. "We're at the mountain top boys! Believe THAT!

"They fucked with the wrong faction," Dean laughed and coughed at the same time.

Reminiscent of a Rocky movie, the crowd stormed the ring taking no notice of the frantic security who could not hold them back so desperate were they to congratulate their heroes. The Shield were engulfed in the throng, for once accepting their attention, partly from euphoria and partly because it was that or beat the crowd back themselves.

Wildly Dean looked around for Paris but all he saw were fans. He started to push past them running madly around the ring his eyes searching for her all the time. Panic rising and running his hands through his hair, "Fuck where is she?" he asked himself.

"Paris!" he shouted. "Shit, Roman, Seth, where's Paris?"

Paris was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Orton!


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the long wait for an update everyone. Nattiebroskette, thanks as always for you continued reviews, you really are lovely and Guest, very glad you like this story and Randy's character. X**

Frantic now, Dean charged around the emptying arena searching for her with Seth and Roman in pursuit.

"Where's Orton?" he demanded of every passing person backstage, grabbing people up by the lapels or scruff of their shirts. Other fighters congratulations on the win were ignored and dismissed out of hand. The game was far from over.

He barged into changing rooms hoping to find her but all he found was half dressed female fighters shrieking at his intrusion or annoyed male ones getting changed. Finding Orton's locker room empty he proceeded to trash it. Seth pulled him away, throwing both arms around Dean's chest to restrain him.

"Man this is not getting us anywhere. Calm the fuck down. Look, I've got an idea, follow me," Seth advised.

"It better be a good one otherwise he's going to destroy this arena and everyone in it," said Roman bleakly.

Paris meanwhile was unhappily reliving the past tumultuous hour where she lay. She was on a soft bed of some sorts, clad in expensive linen in a small dimly lit luxurious room. She faced a floor to ceiling mirror and could see that her hands and feet were tied and her mouth was covered with the same black gauze that fighters use to bind their fists. There was a humming noise and the room seemed to sway and shake. It felt like she was on a ship, yes, no, it couldn't be a ship, perhaps it was... shit it was all coming back her now even more so as she saw a door behind her opening in the reflection of the mirror. A tall muscular figure stood in the doorway clad in nothing but a white towel, water from a hot shower running off in rivulets over his torso. The towel hung low emphasising his lean hips and deep tanned skin. He looked absurdly pleased with himself as he spoke in a deep menacing voice.

"Good. You're awake. I hope you are ready for a long, hard night..."

It was at that moment she realised with horror that she was on Randy Orton's tour bus!

Paris expletives were muffled by the tape that covered her mouth but Orton could be in no doubt by her meaning.

"You can cuss me all you like sweetheart but it will only make things worse for you in the end," he told her firmly. "Let's have some fun."

He picked up a phone from the bedside table, her phone as it happened and sat down next to her scrolling through it. Paris continued to call him all the names under the sun struggling to break free. Orton gave her a withering look and placed a finger on her taped lips.

"Shush," he mocked. "How sweet, you have Ambrose as your screensaver. Ah, he we are. his number. Jesus, maybe I was wrong, he must like you if you've got his number."

Picking up another phone, he snapped several photos of her next to him, tapped in Dean's number and pressed send. Paris cringed away from Orton as he ran his fingers through her hair. Her head ached and she felt groggy, it was no wonder...

When Orton shoved her against the ropes during the fight she had crashed out of the ring and watched in absolute triumph and delight as Roman speared Triple H then Dean defeated Orton. Then things took a turn for the worse. The advancing crowds that rushed in prevented her from getting back in to the ring and she found herself being pushed further and further back. Two security guards had approached her, strangely short for security guards come to think of it, one bald and one with dark hair and a scruffy beard.

The bald one took hold of her arm which she shook off. "Hey, back off!" she exclaimed.

"Ma'am, the Shield have asked us to escort you backstage," he told her.

Paris looked over to the ring where she could barely see the boys due to the influx of fans surrounding them. 'Trust no one,' she thought to herself.

"No. They wouldn't have arranged this. Leave me alone," she told them.

Their demeanour changed instantly and she felt something hard and cold pressed into her ribs.

"Missy," said the dark haired midget in a squeaky southern voice. "This gun in your side should change your mind, doncha think? Now keep your mouth shut and your feet walking."

Before she knew it she had been bundled through a door out of the arena and deposited into a small room. She immediately turned and hammered on the door shouting for help. A dark, deep chuckle caught her ears and her blood ran ice cold, closing her eyes, with her forehead resting on the door, she steeled herself for what was to come.

"I always win," a voice said.

She slowly turned around to see with absolute horror Randy Orton standing not eight feet away, still clad in his ring gear smirking evilly. Battered, cut and bruised with a sheen of sweat and oil on his tanned, tattooed skin, he approached her and she prayed that the door would somehow swallow her up as she willed it to give way behind her, such was the force with which she pressed her body against it in a futile effort to escape his clutches.

Orton stopped a foot away and looked down, tilting his head to one side, then pulled her sharply away from the door into the middle of the room. Paris shuddered as he circled her and ran a hand down her arm, then around her waist, slowly, like he was assessing the confirmation of a prize thoroughbred.

"Mmmmm," he uttered, poking his tongue out from between his teeth. Paris wanted to gag.

"Don't touch me," she shouted and flung his hand away reviled.

"Get used to it. My hands are going to be all over your body soon enough," he snarled.

"Don't count on it," Paris told him. "Dean will kill you for this..."

"Perhaps he will, perhaps he won't. I doubt he'll bother. Do you really think someone like him gives a shit about a little whore like you? I've seen him with scores of women. Dean Ambrose doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"That's rich coming from you. You know nothing about him. He's going to fuck you up real bad when he gets hold of you just like he did earlier tonight..."

That comment stung Orton, he took hold of her face in one hand, tilting it up firmly to look him in the eye.

"You know, it's your attitude that's your problem. I mean take that night when we first met. If you had just taken it, like a good girl, we might not be in this situation right now. You'd be just another one night stand to me, I'd have moved on. But you had to fight me and look where that's gotten you."

"I'll never give in to someone like you. You're just sick bully," she told him bravely.

"You will if you know what's good for you," Orton said evilly. "You will submit to me Paris..."

"I'd rather die you bastard..."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her body fast, his lips next to her ear. "Don't tempt me," he whispered. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

Paris tried to fight him off but he was far too strong. He just laughed at her struggles whilst running his lips up and down her neck, biting down on her collarbone.

"This time there's no one coming to save you," he promised. "Oh and remember that smack you gave me in the arena? I've thought of numerous ways to pay you back for that one but in the meantime..."

Whack! The back of his hand connected with Paris' head and she fell to the floor dazed. He picked her up and the last thing she remembered was the sound of his laughter till everything swirled and went black.

...

Triple H was in the medic room reflecting on the defeat just handed to him and his cohorts. He wasn't badly hurt and the doctor silently went about his work while Hunter made plans. The three kids did good, to be honest he'd underestimated them and he grudgingly admired the way they handled the whole opportunity, perhaps they reminded him of himself when he was starting out. Now was the time to capitalise. Batista wanted out, some shit about making it in Hollywood, Hunter himself wanted to fight less often.

The fight scene was changing, it was becoming more and more popular and seemed more and more obvious to bring the fights out of the underground and into the mainstream. Go legit. If he could just market the product correctly, Hunter saw merchandise, big events, world tours and TV shows, millions could be made. Those Shield boys had the looks, the attitude and most importantly the talent to spearhead his idea. Hunter would smooth over this situation with the girl, but he'd need to keep Randy in check. 'Fucking Randy,' he mused. Triple H knew Randy was a prima donna, a spoilt entitled prick that could never see the bigger picture, selfish, a package wrapped up in himself.

Hunter had mentored him from the beginning, knowing his father and family well and channeling his undeniable talent in the ring giving both men success, reputation, money and women but lately in these past few years Randy had become difficult. Arrogant and rude, he was unquestionably spectacular in the ring when he was not being lazy. If he thought an opponent was beneath him, he would barely bother turning up, this gave Triple H numerous headaches. He would spend money and effort promoting Randy's fights, only for the star not to perform or knock someone out straight away thus annoy the paying spectators. That was another thing, so arrogant was he that he treated the very people who follow and support him, the fans with disdain.

Now he'd gotten into this feud with the Shield over this girl. As it transpired, it had helped sell the fight, tonight was nothing short of a spectacular success business wise, despite Evolutions defeat and Hunter grudgingly admired her bravery. The girl definitely had something. If he could harness that something and maybe persuade the Shield to involve her going forward maybe as a valet of some sort or train her up to fight in the future that could only be good for the business.

As he mused over this, the door swung open abruptly and the very people he was thinking about entered the room unannounced. Seth and Roman looked serious but Dean exuded a dangerous energy, he was calm but bristling with anger.

"Can I help gentlemen?" Hunter asked, annoyed at the intrusion. "The fight's over and I don't remember requesting your presence after it ended."

All three slowly moved towards him. The doctor look alarmed.

"Take a walk," Dean told the scared medic waving the guy away but barely looking at him as all his concentration was centred on the older man.

Waiting for the doc to leave the room, Dean got right up in Hunter's face. "Where's your boy Orton?" he asked in a quiet voice, almost shaking with rage.

"I've no idea Mr Ambrose and I suggest you get out of my personal space before I end you right now," Hunter told him, his own hackles rising.

"End me? I'll break your old ass in half..." Dean shouted.

"Boys, I suggest you call off your street dog before I get him put down," Hunter threatened to Seth and Roman, the latter responding by putting a restraining arm around his unstable friend.

"Hunter, sir," said Seth in appeasement. "We think Randy has taken Paris. She disappeared right after the fight ended. There is no sign of him either. We made a deal. If we won, then the girl is free. With respect, it's not like you to renege on something like this."

'Damn Randy,' Hunter cursed silently to himself and hesitated before responding needing to get these boys on side. "You're right Seth, I wouldn't sanction that but are you sure Randy has taken her? Have you any proof? I mean she could have just done a runner."

"Hardly," snapped Dean. "You saw what she did for me in that ring. There's no way she'd leave. She's been fucking kidnapped by that shit Orton. I swear to God, if he hurts her, he's a dead man..."

"There's no proof he took her," Hunter reasoned, getting up off the bench. "Joey, Jamie, come in here a minute will you," he shouted.

Two small and shifty looking security in shiny suits shuffled in to the room warily.

"Boys, can you ask Randy to join us please," Hunter instructed. "There's been some misunderstanding over the girl, you know, the one involved in tonight's match."

The two men who were dwarfed in size by the Shield, suddenly found their feet most interesting to look at.

"Is there a problem gentlemen?" he added when they made no effort to move.

"See, Mr Hunter Sir...," Jamie, the dark one started. "Randy left the building not so long ago, seems he had some business in the next state but one or something..."

"Did he have anyone with him?" Hunter asked.

"No Sir, Mr Hunter," he replied but his eyes did not meet his boss.

It was at that moment that Dean's phone beeped, he didn't recognise the number but when he opened the message it revealed his worst fears. The photo that appeared on his screen of Paris bound and scared on Randy's bed would haunt him forever if he couldn't save her.

"Dean?..." Seth asked, seeing the colour drain from his friends face. Dean handed his phone to Hunter who muttered "Jesus," under his breath seeing his future business plans drain away because of Randy's actions.

"Here's your proof Hunter," he snapped before simply flying at the smaller man, punching him in the jaw then gripping him hard and repeatedly slamming his face down against the treatment bench.

"You fucking little lying shit. Where the fuck are they, tell me or so help me God, you won't get out of this room alive," he shouted.

The bald one tried to pull Dean away but he was flung across the room for his efforts by Roman and Seth. Hunter stood impassively watching the scene unfold.

"OK, OK," Jay squeaked. "Randy's got the girl."

"Where is she?" Roman demanded.

"Yeah, where's he taken her?" Seth added.

"I don't know, honest, you've got to believe me..." he wailed as Dean hit him again. "Hunter please, Randy made us take her to him, please...we were just doing our job." He was starting to ramble now whilst cowering away from the blows that Dean continually landed on his face. "Since when do we care about Randy's women?" He cried as he tried to dodge another fist.

"Since I say so Jamie, and I'm saying so right now', said Hunter much to the surprise of his two employees. "Randy's gone too far this time. He fucking finished in this business as far as I'm concerned."

At this Dean flung the smaller man roughly on the floor causing to him tumble and cower in a corner of the room, blood pouring from a broken nose and cut lip. Adrenaline coursed through Dean's veins. He turned to stare at Joey who was still being held between Seth and Roman.

"Are you going to cooperate buddy, or do I have smash you up too?" Dean rasped.


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating this story and I would not blame you all for saying sod off its been too long. Guest - apologies for the delay, I know you have been waiting and I thank you for your patience. Addie Ambrose - thanks so much and yes I have started a sequel with Becca and Seth and will try to post soon (poor Seth Rollins by the way, love him and hope he recovers quickly). This is the final chapter in Underground, there may be a few typos because I just wanted to get it out there and finished as life is very busy for me. PS has anyone had any success with Wattpad? Tried to put this and On Tour up but not had much response and also got told off for adult content. Oops. **

Time, I have to play for time,' Paris thought desperately as Orton's hands slithered up and down her body. Sick, she felt sick every time he touched her, the pit of her stomach churned with fear and disgust but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Sadness too permeated her soul, to think that Orton was about violate her in every way possible and she was powerless to do anything about it. To think that this man, not Dean, might be the last man who ever touched her was sickening.

There must be something she could do, something to distract him. She stopped struggling and forced herself to make a noise that sounded like she was enjoying his touch. This stopped him in his tracks and he narrowed his eyes, puzzled at this turn of events. He raked a hand from the nape of her neck, over her chest and she arched her body up against the pressure. This was new territory for Orton, having expected a fight to the end with her, her fear turned him on. He wanted her weak and begging for mercy. This change in behaviour was not expected but it interested him all the same. He hesitated then ripped off the tape covering her mouth.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Randy said nothing but had that haughty, arrogant look on his handsome depraved face. His chin lifted in thought as he stared down at his captive. Paris returned his stare and batted her eyelashes slowly.

"You're up to something," he murmured finally. "Why have you suddenly changed your tune?

"Don't hurt me anymore please," she answered.

"You don't want me to hurt you anymore," he repeated slowly. "But you make such a delicious noise when I do honey."

Paris gulped, 'This guy is seriously twisted,' she thought in panic. 'Think, think, think', she told herself. "Can't you untie me so I can make things up to you?" she breathed.

He just laughed. "Huh, no chance. Do I look fucking stupid?" he retorted.

Paris kept her expression neutral and refrained from answering that question. "Randy please. "I... I promise if you untie me I'll do anything you want."

Whether it was the fact that she called him by his first name or her offer of compliance, he wavered then answered slowly, "Anything hhmmm? But I'm going to do exactly what I want to you anyway so what's the point?" he shrugged.

"Because I want to be able to touch that... that hot body of yours," Paris forced herself to say. "And I can't do that when I'm all bound up, can I?"

Orton, vain as ever, smirked at her compliment but thought for a minute. "You're either desperate or your head is fuzzy from that smack I gave you... Or maybe you are just a slut? Yeah, I bet you fucked all those Shield boys, didn't you? Did they take it in turns or did you have all of them at the same time?"

"I...um," Paris was briefly speechless, trying to work out what answer he would want to hear but Orton's eyes had glazed over. The thought of this turned him on even more. He'd fucking show them and this bitch who was the man. He started to untie her warning, "You'll regret your promise by the end of the night once I've done with you."

"I've heard that you are so good in bed," Paris told him rambling, rubbing her wrists and ankles while she assessed her next move. "You were right, I should have just let you seduce me that night in the club. After all, you are so handsome and strong and sexy." It was hard to be sexy when you are a) frightened, b) repulsed by your captor but every second she could delay his assault counted.

Randy smirked again. He really was stupid, she thought. Flattery was seriously his Achilles heel.

He wrapped her long hair around his fist and yanked her head back, smirking as she yelped. His lips crashed against hers and she tried to keep her mouth firmly shut as his tongue probed aggressively for entry.

"You're suddenly not cooperating again," he growled. "I've got a remedy for that."

He released her, went to a drawer and pulled out a long black leather belt.

"Oh come on," he drawled seeing her expression of horror as he flexed it between his fists. "I thought all you women wanted some Fifty Shades action these days? You know, you obey instantly to please me or you get punished. Isn't that how it works?"

Paris gulped. She was not sure how much longer she could delay the inevitable.

"On your knees," he demanded raising the belt aloft. Paris braced herself then the bus suddenly lurched to the left, it's wheels squealing and Orton was caught off guard and stumbled. Paris saw her chance and leapt off the bed, through the bedroom door scrambling into the living area screaming for help. But it only took a few seconds for Orton to catch her.

"Devious bitch," he shouted as he slammed her against a wall and raised his first ready to strike. "I really am going to fuck you hard and then who knows what. I might just keep you to use, it would save on ring rats. I might even film us and send a video to Ambrose daily. Yeah, let's start right now."

"Fuck you Orton," she screamed and shoved him in his chest. His 6 foot 4 frame towered over her and didn't even move an inch. He just shook his head with a look of pure evil intent on his face.

"Nice try. When are you going to get it through your thick head that you are totally at my mercy. Oh and just for the record, I'm not feeling very merciful tonight sugar lips."

Just as he tried to yank her dress up the panicked voice of the bus driver sounded from a speaker above their heads, "Mr Orton Sir, some maniac is trying to run us off the road. What should I do?"

Hope filled Paris's heart.

"Damn it," cursed Orton. He pushed her roughly aside and wrenched open the door to the driver's compartment. "Put your foot down," Paris heard Orton shout. The bus sped up and zig zagged from side to side. Objects falling from shelves rained down crashing here and there. Orton reappeared while Paris rolled around trying to regain her balance. He grabbed her and tied her firmly to a table leg.

"You're going nowhere bitch," he shouted, binding the rope far too tightly so she winced in pain.

"Looks like your little boyfriend is chasing us. Well, I look toward to beating the shit out of him then showing him what a little slut you are." Then he back handed her across her face so hard black spots appeared in her vision.

For a while after that she could vaguely make out the noise of screeching wheels and raised voices when finally a huge bang brought the bus to an abrupt halt. She would have been flung to serious injury had she not been tied to the table leg. Adrenaline kicked her back into reality and realising she was OK and seeing her chance, she struggled to break fee of the rope and looked for an escape route but Orton reappeared looking dazed, blood trickling from a bang to the head. He had a knife in his hand.

Cutting her free, he yanked her onto her feet just as the glass entry door was smashed in and the Shield stormed the bus!

If fear and sadness were Paris' primary emotions in the past few hours then rage and revenge were Dean's. It was his fault. She'd selflessly put herself in harms way in that ring, not only saving him from a sledgehammer to the head but also helping him to achieve the greatest moment in his career. How did he repay her? He fucking abandoned her by not keeping her safe. She should never have been left alone, he should have leapt out of that ring as soon as the ref called the three count and pulled her into his arms.

He never much been able to stay in control once his brawling instincts took hold. When he was angry, he was angry at everyone. It was simpler that way. Seth and Roman's calming influence was the only thing that kept him from attacking anyone standing in his way and the bond they shared with their brother allowed them to restrain him somewhat. Lucky for Joey who got off fairly lightly compared to Jay, but then again he was marginally the smarter of the two stooges and confessed all realising the beating he'd have to take off Ambrose if he dared to withhold details of Orton's plans.

But now, Ambrose's blood boiled at the sight before him inside that bus, every sinew and muscle was tensed with pure hatred. Orton was cornered but still very dangerous considering he held Paris close to his side. Dean looked at his Paris, their eyes locked on each other, both contemplating the horror of the situation. Oh God, his beautiful Paris, the girl who had started to tame him, the only person who had ever made him feel love and fear, fear of losing her. She looked bashed up, cuts and bruises all over her lovely body, Orton had inflicted much more injuries that when he'd first set eyes on her this few short weeks ago. At least she was alive, he wouldn't put murder past that bastard but he briefly wondered if Orton had defiled her. Dean couldn't tell but he shut that painful thought firmly out of his mind. First he had to save her. 'I'm actually going to fucking kill him,' he thought.

The idea was to overpower the Viper quickly just as they did in the ring but all three of the Shield were forced to stop in their tracks when Orton pressed a knife against Paris' neck.

'I'd fucking step back boys unless you want to see your little whore run through with this blade," Orton snarled manically.

Dean stepped forward calling his bluff. "Let her go or you die, simple as that."

"Wrong move Ambrose," he laughed. "Listen to her scream when I cut her."

The blade sliced across her collarbone drawing blood. Paris gritted her teeth, she wouldn't die screaming by his hand and made no sound. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"Scream for me you bitch," Orton demanded. "Let loverboy hear your pain."

"Never," she shouted.

Christ, she is one brave girl, Dean thought and at that moment he loved her more than ever.

There was silence, no one made a move and the air was thick with tension when Paris' eyes met Dean's once again. For the first time she felt tearful. Would this be the last time she looked upon his beautiful face? No, that desolate thought spurred her to take a life or death chance.

"Like I said before Orton, FUCK YOU!" She stamped on his bare foot hard with her heeled boot and as he released her in shock she jumped aside, just seeing a 6 foot 4 muscular blonde blur fly past her, punching and head butting and kicking his slithery prey.

Dean's fury knew no bounds. He really was going to kill Orton, he would not stop till the fucker wasn't breathing. The wounded Viper was no match for Ambrose in this mood. Blood spurted from his clearly broken nose, ribs cracked, both eyes blackened. Dean stamped repeatedly on his enemy's head, harder and harder, faster and faster. Orton was now clearly unconscious. Dean was clearly in lunatic mode.

"Ambrose!" shouted Roman and Seth, trying to pull him away. "Bro, he's beat. Leave him now." It was not out of sympathy for Orton, he was getting exactly what he deserved and they hated him nearly as much as Dean did. They needed to stop Dean before he actually killed the bastard.

"Gotta stop him Roman or he'll end up in jail," Seth exclaimed desperately. Prison would be the end for Ambrose. But they couldn't stop him this time. Repeatedly they pulled him off the stricken Viper only for him to break free and continue his vicious assault.

This time he could not hear his brother's voices such was his blind rage but then in mid punch he heard one voice. One sweet pure soft voice and it said falteringly "Dean, Dean...I...I think that's enough darling."

He suddenly stopped beating down on the body that lay at his feet and stood stock still with his back to her. His breathing was laboured and heavy, sweat covered his body and blood was smeared on his clenched fists. Turning to face the one person who he now loved more than life itself, he visibly relaxed, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. The lunatic was gone, the man she loved stood before her.

Epilogue

The church was heavily scented with flowers, sunlight streamed though the stained glass illuminating the beautiful bride and her handsome husband to be. Well wishers and guests were packed in tightly like sardines, happy and smiling, dressed in their finest.

The priest got to the best bit.

"Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do."

"And do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Then I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

All cheered and clapped, except one person...

"Man, I'm glad that's over," stage whispered Dean to Paris in a pew at the back of the church gaining disapproving looks from an old battle axe in a yellow straw hat who had just been dabbing at tears of happiness with a mouldy old tissue.

Paris giggled, watching Dean pull at his shirt and tie.

"When can I get out of this fucking monkey suit?" he asked.

"As soon as we've drunk a toast to the happy couple, she is one of my best friends. Then I'll definitely get you out of that suit. There's a secluded glade by the lake. Shame though, you look devine in it."

Dean smiled, his blue eyes glinting with love and lust.

"I can't wait baby."

The end.


End file.
